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A* W 






The HIDDEN HAND 


A NOVEL 


BY 

MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH 

Author of 

“Ishmael,” “ Self-Raised,’ * “Capitola’s Peril,” 
“Tried for Her Life,” i( Cruel as the Grave,” Etc. 



“ Of the present naught is bright. 

But in coming years, I see 
A brilliant and a cheerful light, 

Which burns before thee constantly.” 


A. L. BURT COMPANY, Publishers 
NEW YORK 


POPULAR BOOKS 

By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH 

In Handsome Cloth Binding 

Price per volume, 60 Cents 


Beautiful Fiend, A 
Brandon Coyle’s Wife 
Sequel to A Skeleton in the Closet 
Bride’s Fate, The 
Sequel to The Changed Brides 
Bride’s Ordeal, The 
Capitola’s Peril 
Sequel to the Hidden Hand 
Changed Brides, The 
Cruel as the Grave 
David Lindsay 
Sequel to Gloria 
Deed Without a Name, A 
Dorothy Harcourt’s Secret 
Sequel to A Deed Without a Name 
“ Em ” 

Em s Husband 
Sequel to “Em ’’ 

Fair Play 
For Whose Sake 
Sequel to Why Did He Wed Her ? 
For Woman’s Love 
Fulfilling Her Destiny 
Sequel to When Love Commands 
Gloria 

Her Love or Her Life 
Sequel to The Bride’s Ordeal 
Her Mother’s Secret 
Hidden Hand, The 
How He Won Her 
Sequel to Fair Play v 

Ishmael 

Leap in the Dark, A 
Lilith 

Sequel to the Unloved Wife 
Little Nea’s Engagement 
Sequel to Nearest and Dearest 


Lost Heir, The 
Lost Lady of Lone, The 
Love’s Bitterest Cup 
Sequel to Her Mother’s Secret 
Mysterious Marriage, The 
Sequel to A Leap in the Dark 
Nearest and Dearest 
Noble Lord, A 
Sequel to The Lost Heir 
Self-Raised 
Sequel to Ishmael 
Skeleton in the Closet, A 
Struggle of a Soul, The 
Sequel to The Lost Lady of Lone 
Sweet Love’s Atonement 
Test of Love, The 
Sequel to A Tortured Heart 
To His Fate 

Sequel to Dorothy Harcourt’s 

j^c crct 

Tortured Heart, A 
Sequel to The Trail of the Serpent 
Trail of the Serpent, The 
Tried for Her Life 
Sequel to Cruel as the Grave 
Unloved Wife, The 
Unrequited Love, An 
Sequel to For Woman’s Love 
Victor’s Triumph 
Sequel to A Beautiful Fiend 
When Love Commands 
When Shadows Die 
Sequel to Love’s Bitterest Cup 
Why Did He Wed Her? 
Zenobia’s Suitors 


Sequel to Sweet Love’s Atonement 


For Sale by all Booksellers or will be sent postpaid on receipt of price, 

A. L. BURT COMPANY. PUBLISHERS 
114-120 East 23rd Street New York 


CONTENTS 


6HAPTER pAg£ 

I. The Nocturnal Visit 5 

II. The Masks 13 

III. The Quest 29 

IV. Capitola 31 

V. The Discovery 36 

VI. A Short, Sad Story 40 

VII. Metamorphosis of the Newsboy 46 

VIII. Herbert Greyson 52 

IX. Marah Rooke 58 

X. The Room of the Trap-Door 69 

XI. A Mystery and a Storm at Hurricane Hall 76 

XII. Marah’s Dream 84 

XIII. Marah’s Memories 90 

XIV. The Wasting Heart 97 

XV. Cap’s Country Capers 105 

XVI. Cap’s Fearful Adventure Ill 

XVII. Another Storm at Hurricane Hall 116 

XVIII. The Doctor’s Daughter 126 

XIX. The Resigned Soul 182 

XX. The Outlaw’s Rendezvous 136 

XXI. Gabriel LeNoir 143 

XXII. The Smuggler and Capitola 147 

XXIII. The Boy’s Love 161 

XXIV. Capitola’s Mother 169 

XXV. Cap’s Tricks and Perils . 175 

XXVI. The Peril and the Pluck of Capitola 139 

XXVII. Seeking his Fortune 197 

XXVIII. A Panic in the Outlaw’s Den 206 

XXIX. The Victory Over Death 215 

XXX. The Orphan 230 


a 


, f 


THE HIDDEN HAND 


CHAPTER I. 

THE NOCTURNAL VISIT. 

* * * Whence is that knocking ? 

How is’t with me when every sound appals me? 

* * * I hear a knocking 

In the south entry ! Hark ! — More knocking ! 

—Shakespeare. 

Hurricane Hall is a large old family mansion, built of 
dark-red sandstone, in one of the loneliest and wildest of the 
mountain regions of Virginia. 

The estate is surrounded on three sides by a range of steep, 
gray rocks, spiked with clumps of dark evergreens, and called, 
from its horseshoe form, the Devil’s Hoof. 

On the fourth side the ground gradually descends in broken 
rock and barren soil to the edge of the wild mountain stream 
known as the Devil’s Run. 

When storms and floods were high the loud roaring of the 
wind through the wild mountain gorges and the terrific raging 
of the torrent over its rocky course gave to this savage locality 
its ill-omened names of Devil’s Hoof, Devil’s Run and Hurri- 
cane Hall. 

Major Ira Warfield, the lonely proprietor of the Hall, was a 
veteran officer, who, in disgust at what he supposed to be ill- 
requited services, had retired from public life to spend the 
evening of his vigorous age on this his patrimonial estate. 
Here he lived in seclusion, with his old-fashioned housekeeper, 
Mrs. Condiment, and his old family servants and his favorite 
dogs and horses. Here his mornings were usually spent in 
the chase, in which he excelled, and his afternoons and eve- 
nings were occupied in small convivial suppers among his few 
chosen companions of the chase or the bottle. 


5 


6 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


In person Major Warfield was tall and strongly built, re- 
minding one of some old iron-limbed Douglas of the olden 
time. His features were large and harsh ; his complexion 
dark red, as that of one bronzed by long exposure and flushed 
with strong drink. His fierce, dark-gray eyes were surmounted 
by thick, heavy black brows that, when gathered into a frown, 
reminded one of a thunder cloud, as the flashing orbs beneath 
them did of lightning. His hard, harsh face was surrounded 
by a thick growth of iron-gray hair and beard that met beneath 
his chin. His usual habit was a black cloth coat, crimson 
vest, black leather breeches, long, black yarn stockings, fast- 
ened at the knees, and morocco slippers with silver buttons. 

In character Major Warfield was arrogant, domineering and 
violent — equally loved and feared by his faithful old family 
servants at home — disliked and dreaded by his neighbors and 
acquaintances abroad, who, partly from his house and partly 
from his character, fixed upon him the appropriate nickname 
of Old Hurricane. 

There was, however, other ground of dislike besides that of 
his arrogant mind, violent temper and domineering habits. 
Old Hurricane was said to be an old bachelor, yet rumor 
whispered that there was in some obscure part of the world, 
hidden away from human sight, a deserted wife and child, 
poor, forlorn and heart-broken. It was further whispered that 
the elder brother of Ira Warfield had mysteriously disappeared, 
and not without some suspicion of foul play on the part of the 
only person in the world who had a strong interest in his 
“ taking off.’' However these things might be, it was known 
for a certainty that Old Hurricane had an only sister, widowed, 
sick and poor, who, with her son, dragged on a wretched life 
of ill-requited toil, severe privation and painful infirmity in a 
distant city, unaided, unsought and uncared for by her cruel 
brother. 

It was the night of the last day of October, eighteen hun- 
dred and forty-five. The evening had closed in very dark and 
gloomy. About dusk the wind arose in the northwest, driving 
up masses of leaden-hued clouds, and in a few minutes the 
ground was covered deep with snow and the air was filled with 
driving sleet. 

As this was All Hallow Eve, the dreadful inclemency of the 
weather did not prevent the negroes of Hurricane Hall from 
availing themselves of their capricious old master’s permission 


THE NOCTURNAL VISIT. 


7 

and going off in a body to a banjo breakdown held in the 
negro quarters of their next neighbor. 

Upon this evening, then, there was left at Hurricane Hall 
only Major Warfield, Mrs. Condiment, his little housekeeper, 
and Wool, his body servant. 

Early in the evening the old hall was shut up closely to keep 
out as much as possible the sound of the storm that roared 
through the mountain chasms and cannonaded the walls of 
the house as if determined to force an entrance. As soon as 
she had seen that all was safe, Mrs. Condiment went to bed and 
went to sleep. 

It was about ten o’clock that night that Old Hurricane, 
well wrapped up in his quilted flannel dressing-gown, sat in 
his well-padded easy-chair before a warm and bright fire, tak- 
ing his comfort in his own most comfortable bedroom. This 
was the hour of the coziest enjoyment to the self-indulgent 
old Sybarite, who dearly loved his own ease. And, indeed, 
every means and appliance of bodily comfort was at hand. 
Strong oaken shutters and thick, heavy curtains at the windows 
kept out every draft of air, and so deadened the sound of the 
wind that its subdued moaning was just sufficient to remind 
one of the stormy weather without in contrast to the bright 
warmth within. Old Hurricane, as I said, sat well wrapped 
up in his wadded dressing-gown, and reclining in his padded 
easy-chair, with his head thrown back and his feet upon the 
fire irons, toasting his shins and sipping his punch. On his 
right stood a little table with a lighted candle, a stack of clay 
pipes, a jug of punch, lemons, sugar, Holland gin, etc., while 
on the hearth sat a kettle of boiling water to help replenish the 
jug, if needful. 

On his left hand stood his cozy bedstead, with its \rarm 
crimson curtains festooned back, revealing the luxurious swell 
of the full feather bed and pillows, with their snow-white linen 
and lamb’s-wool blankets, inviting repose. Between this bed- 
stead and the comer of the fireplace stood Old Hurricane’s 
ancient body servant Wool, engaged in warming a crimson 
cloth nightcap. 

“ Fools ! ” muttered Old Hurricane, over his punch — 
“ jacks ! they’ll all get the pleurisy except those that get drunk ! 
Did they all go, Wool? ” 

“ Ebery man, ’oman and chile, sar ! — ’cept ’tis me and 
coachman, sar ! ” 


8 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ More fools they ! And I shouldn’t wonder if you, you old 
scarecrow, didn’t want to go too ! ” 

“ No, Marse ” 

“ I know better, sir ! Don’t contradict me ! Well, a6 soon 
as I’m in bed, and that won’t be long now, you may go — so 
that you get back in time to wait on me to-morrow morning.” 

“Thanky, marse.” 

“ Hold your tongue! You’re as big a fool as the rest. 

“ I take this,” said Old Hurricane, as he sipped his punch 
and smacked his lips — “ I take this to be the very quintes- 
sence of human enjoyment — sitting here in my soft, warm 
chair before the fire, toasting my legs, sipping my punch, lis- 
tening on the one hand to the storm without and glancing on 
the other hand at my comfortable bed waiting there to receive 
my sleepy head. If there is anything better than this in this 
world I wish somebody would let me know it.” 

“ It’s all werry comformable indeed, marse,” said the obse- 
quious Wool. 

“ I wonder, now, if there is anything on the face of the 
earth that would tempt me to leave my cozy fireside and go 
abroad to-night? I wonder how large a promise of pleasure 
or profit or glory it would take now? ” 

“ Much as ebber Congress itse’f could give, if it give you 2 
penance for all your sarvins,” suggested Wool. 

“Yes, and more; for I wouldn’t leave my home comfort! 
to-night to insure not only the pension but the thanks of Com 
gress! ” said the old man, replenishing his glass with steamin$ 
punch and drinking it off leisurely. 

The clock struck eleven. The old man again replenished! 
his glass, and, while sipping its contents, said : 

“You may fill the warming-pan and warm my bed, Wool. 
The fumes of this fragrant punch are beginning to rise to my 
head and make me sleepy.” 

The servant filled the warming-pan with glowing embers, 
shut down the lid and thrust it between the sheets to warm 
the couch of this luxurious Old Hurricane. The old man con- 
tinued to toast his feet, sip his punch and smack his lips. Ha 
finished his glass, set it down, and was just in the act of draw- 
ing on his woolen nightcap, preparatory to stepping into his 
well-warmed bed when he was suddenly startled by a loud 
ringing of the hall-door bell. 

“ What the foul fiend can that mean at this time of night? ” 


THE NOCTURNAL VISIT. 


9 


exclaimed Old Hurricane, dropping his nightcap and turning 
sharply around toward Wool, who, warming-pan in hand, stood 
staring with astonishment. “ What does that mean, I ask 
you? ” 

“ ’Deed, I dunno, sar, less it’s some benighted traveler in 
search o’ shelter outen de storm! ” 

“ Humph! and in search of supper, too, of course, and 
everybody gone away or gone to bed but you and me! ” 

At this moment the ringing was followed by a loud knocking. 

“ Marse, don’t less you and me listen to it, and then we 
ain’* ’bliged to ’sturb ourselves with answering of it ! ” sug- 
gested Wool. 

“ ’Sdeath, sir ! Do you think that I am going to turn a deaf 
ear to a stranger that comes to my house for shelter on such a 
night as this? Go and answer the bell directly.’* 

“Yes, sar.” 

“ But stop — look here, sirrah — mind I am not to be dis- 
turbed. If it is a traveler, ask him in, set refreshments before 
him and show him to bed. I’m not going to leave my warm 
room to welcome anybody to-night, please the Lord. Do you 
hear? ” 

“Yes, sar,” said the darkey, retreating. 

As Wool took a shaded taper and opened the door leading 
from his master’s chamber, the wind was heard howling through 
the long passages, ready to burst into the cozy bedroom. 

“ Shut that door, you scoundrel ! ” roared the old man, 
folding the skirt of his warm dressing-gown across his knees, 
and hovering closer to the fire. 

Wool quickly obeyed, and was heard retreating down the 
Steps. 

“ Whew ! ” said the old man, spreading his hands over the 
blaze with a look of comfortable appreciation. “ What would 
induce me to go abroad on such a night as this? Wind 
blowing great guns from the northwest — snow falling fast from 
the heavens and rising just as fast before the wind from the 
ground — cold as Lapland, dark as Erebus ! No telling the 
earth from the sky. Whew ! ” and to comfort the cold 
thought, Old Hurricane poured out another glass of smoking 
punch and began to sip it. 

“ How I thank the Lord that I am not a doctor ! If I 
were a doctor, now, the sound of that bell at this hour of night 
would frighten me ; I should think some old woman had been 


10 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


taken with the pleurisy, and wanted me to get up and go 
out in the storm ; to turn out of my warm bed to ride ten 
miles through the snow to prescribe for her. A doctor never 
can feel sure, even in the worst of weathers, of a good 
night’s rest. But, thank Heaven, I am free from all such 
annoyances, and if I am sure of anything in this world it is 
of my comfortable night’s sleep,” said Old Hurricane, as he 
sipped his punch, smacked his lips and toasted his feet. 

At this moment Wool reappeared. 

“ Shut the door, you villain ! Do you intend to stand there 
holding it open on me all night? ” vociferated the old 
man. 

Wool hastily closed the offending portals and hurried to his 
master’s side. 

“ Well, sir, who was it rung the bell? ” 

"“Please, marster, sir, it wer’ de Reverend Mr. Parson 
Goodwin.” 

“Goodwin? Been to make a sick-call, I suppose, and got 
caught in the snow-storm. I declare it is as bad to be a 
parson as it is to be a doctor. Thank the Lord I am not a 
parson, either; if I were, now, I might be called away from 
my cozy armchair and fireside to ride twelve miles to com- 
fort some old man dying of quinsy. Well, here — help me 
into bed, pile on more comforters, tuck me up warm, put a 
bottle of hot water at my feet, and then go and attend to the 
parson,” said the old man, getting up and moving toward his 
inviting couch. 

“ Sar ! sar ! stop, sar, if you please ! ” cried Wool, going 
after him. 

“ Why, what does the old fool mean ? ” exclaimed Old 
Hurricane, angrily. 

“ Sar, de Reverend Mr. Parson Goodwin say how he must 
see you yourself, personable, alone ! ” 

“ See me, you villain ! Didn’t you tell him that I had 
retired?” 

“Yes, marse; I tell him how you wer’ gone to bed and 
asleep more’n an hour ago, and he ordered me to come wake 
you up, and say how it were a matter o’ life and death ! ” 

“ Life and death ? What have I to do with life and death ? 
I won’t stir ! If the parson wants to see me he will have to 
come up here and see me in bed,” exclaimed Old Hurricane, 
suiting the action to the word by jumping into bed and drawing 


THE NOCTURNAL VISIT. u 

all the comforters and blankets up around his head and shoul- 
ders.’’ 

“ Mus’ I fetch him reverence up, sar? ” 

“ Yes ; I wouldn’t get up and go down to see — Washington. 
Shut the door, you rascal, or I’ll throw the bootjack at your 
wooden head.” 

Wool obeyed with alacrity and in time to escape the threat- 
ened missile. 

After an absence of a few minutes he was heard returning, 
attending upon the footsteps of another. And the next min- 
ute he entered, ushering in the Rev. Mr. Goodwin, the parish 
minister of Bethlehem, St. Mary’s. 

“ How do you do ? How do you do ? Glad to see you, 
sir ; glad to see you, though obliged to receive you in bed. 
Fact is, I caught a cold with this severe change of weather, 
and took a warm negus and went to bed to sweat it off. 
You’ll excuse me. Wool, draw that easy-chair up to my bed- 
side for worthy Mr. Goodwin, and bring him a glass of warm 
negus. It will do him good after his cold ride.” 

“ I thank you, Major Warfield. I will take the seat but not 
the negus, if you please, to-night.” 

“ Not the negus? Oh, come now, you are joking. Why, it 
will keep you from catching cold and be a most comfortable 
nightcap, disposing you to sleep and sweat like a baby. Of 
course, you spend the night with us? ” 

“ I thank you, no. I must take the road again in a few 
minutes.” 

“ Take the road again to-night ! Why, man alive ! it is 
midnight, and the snow driving like all Lapland ! ” 

“ Sir, I am sorry to refuse your proffered hospitality and 
leave your comfortable roof to-night, and sorrier still to have 
to take you with me,” said the pastor, gravely. 

“ Take me with you ! No, no, my good sir ! — no, no, that is 
too good a joke — ha ! ha ! ” 

“ Sir, I fear that you will find it a very serious one. Your 
servant told you that my errand was one of imminent urgency? ” 

“ Yes ; something like life and death ” 

“ Exactly ; down in the cabin near the Punch Bowl there is 
an old woman dying ” 

“ There ! I knew it ! I was just saying there might be an 
old woman dying ! But, my dear sir, what’s that to me ? 
What .can I do?” 


12 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Humanity, sir, would prompt you.” 

“ But, my dear sir, how can I help her ? I am not a phy- 
sician to prescribe ” 

“ She is far past a physician’s help.” 

“ Nor am I a priest to hear her confession ” 

“ Her confession God has already received.” 

“ Well, and I’m not a lawyer to draw up her will.” 

“ No, sir ; but you are recently appointed one of the jus- 
tices of the peace for Alleghany.” 

“Yes. Well, what of that? That does not comprise the 
duty of getting up out of my warm bed and going through a 
snow-storm to see an old woman expire.” 

“ I regret to inconvenience you, sir ; but in this instance 
your duty demands your attendance at the bedside of this 
dying woman ” 

„ “ I tell you I can’t go, and I won’t ! Anything in reason 
I’ll do. Anything I can send she shall have. Here, Wool, 
look in my breeches pocket and take out my purse and hand 
it. And then go and wake up Mrs. Condiment, and ask her 
to fill a large basket full of everything a poor old dying 
woman might want, and you shall carry it.” 

“ Spare your pains, sir. The poor woman is already past 
all earthly, selfish wants. She only asks your presence at her 
dying bed.” 

“ But I can’t go ! I ! The idea of turning out of my 
warm bed and exposing myself to a snow-storm this time of 
night ! ” 

“ Excuse me for insisting, sir ; but this is an official duty,” 
said the parson mildly but firmly. 

“I’ll — I’ll throw up my commission to-morrow,” growled 
the old man. 

“To-morrow you may do that; but meanwhile, to-night, 
being still in the commission of the peace, you are bound to 
get up and go with me to this woman’s bedside.” 

“ And what the demon is wanted of me there ? ” 

“To receive her dying deposition.” 

“ To receive a dying deposition ! Good Heaven ! was she 
murdered, then?” exclaimed the old man in alarm, as he 
started out of bed and began to draw on his nether gar- 
ments. 

“ Be composed ; she was not murdered,” said the pastor. 

“ Well, then, what is it? Dying deposition ! It must con* 


THE MASKS. 


13 

cern a crime,” exclaimed the old man, hastily drawing on his 
coat. 

“ It does concern a crime. ” 

“ What crime, for the love of Heaven?” 

“ I am not at liberty to tell you. She will do that.” 

“Wool, go down and rouse up Jehu, and tell him to put 
Parson Goodwin’s mule in the stable for the night. And tell 
him to put the black draught horses to the close carriage, and 
light both of the front lanterns — for we shall have a dark, 

stormy road Shut the door, you infernal I beg youi 

pardon, parson, but that villain always leaves the door ajax 
after him.” 

The good pastor bowed gravely, and the major completed 
his toilet by the time the servant returned and reported the 
carriage ready. 

It was dark as pitch when they emerged from the hall door 
out into the front portico, before which nothing could be seen 
but two red bull’s-eyes of the carriage lanterns, and nothing 
heard but the dissatisfied whinnying and pawing of the horses. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE MASKS. 

“ What are these. 

So withered and so wild in their attire 
That look not like th’ inhabitants of earth 
And yet are on’t ? ” 

— Macbeth. 

u To the Devil’s Punch Bowl,” was the order given by Old 
Hurricane as he followed the minister into the carriage. 
“ And now, sir,” he continued, addressing his companion, “ I 
think you had better repeat that part of the church litany 
that prays to be delivered from ‘ battle, murder and sudden 
death,* for if we should be so lucky as to escape Black Donald 
and his gang, we shall have at least an equal chance of being 
upset in the darkness of these dreadful mountains.” 

“ A pair of saddle mules would have been a safer convey- 
ance, certainly,” said the minister. 

Old Hurricane knew that, but, though a great sensualist, he 
was a brave man, and so he had rather risk his life in a close 
carriage than suffer cold upon a sure-footed mule’s back 


»4 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


Only by previous knowledge of the route could any one 
have told the way the carriage went. Old Hurricane and the 
minister both knew that they drove, lumbering, over the rough 
road leading by serpentine windings down that rugged fall 
of ground to the river’s bank, and that then, turning to the 
left by a short bend, they passed in behind that range of horse- 
shoe rocks that sheltered Hurricane Hall — thus, as it were, 
doubling their own road. Beneath that range of rocks, and 
between it and another range, there was an awful abyss or 
chasm of cleft, torn and jagged rocks opening, as it were, from 
the bowels of the earth, in the shape of a mammoth bowl, in 
the bottom of which, almost invisible from its great depth, 
seethed and boiled a mass of dark water of what seemed to be 
a lost river or a subterranean spring. This terrific phenome- 
non was called the Devil’s Punch Bowl. 

Not far from the brink of this awful abyss, and close behind 
the horseshoe range of rocks, stood a humble log-cabin, 
occupied by an old free negress, who picked up a scanty liv- 
ing by telling fortunes and showing the way to the Punch 
Bowl. Her cabin went by the name of the Witch’s Hut, or 
Old Hat’s Cabin. A short distance from Hat’s cabin the 
road became impassable, and the travelers got out, and, pre- 
ceded by the coachman bearing the lantern, struggled along 
on foot through the drifted snow and against the buffeting 
wind and sleet to where a faint light guided them to the 
house. 

The pastor knocked. The door was immediately opened 
by a negro, whose sex from the strange anomalous costume it 
was difficult to guess. The tall form was rigged out first in a 
long, red, cloth petticoat) above which was buttoned a blue 
cloth surtout. A man’s old black beaver hat sat upon the 
strange head and completed this odd attire. 

“ Well, Hat, how is your patient ?” inquired the pastor, as 
he entered preceding the magistrate. 

“ You will see, sir,” replied the old woman. 

The two visitors looked around the dimly-lighted, miserable 
room, in one corner of which stood a low bed, upon which lay 
extended the form of an old, feeble and gray-haired woman. 

“ How are you, my poor soul, and what can I do for you 
now I am here ? ” inquired Old Hurricane, who in the actua! 
presence of suffering was not utterly without pity. 

“ You are a magistrate? ” inquired the dying woman. 


THE MASKS. 


15 


* Yes, my poor soul.” 

“ And qualified to administer an oath and take your deposi- 
tion,” said the minister. 

“ Will it be legal — will it be evidence in a court of law?” 
asked the woman, lifting her dim eyes to the major. 

“ Certainly, my poor soul — certainly,” said the latter, who, 
by the way, would have said anything to soothe her. 

“ Send every one but yourself from the room.” 

“ What, my good soul, send the parson out in the storm ? 
That will never do ! Won’t it be just as well to let him go 
up in the corner yonder? ” 

“ No ! You will repent it unless this communication is 
strictly private.” 

“ But, my good soul, if it is to be used in a court of law? ” 

“ That will be according to your own discretion ! ” 

“ My dear parson,” said Old Hurricane, going to the min- 
ister, “ would you be so good as to retire? ” 

“There is a fire in the woodshed, master,” said Hat, lead- 
ing the way. 

“ Now, my good soul, now ! You want first to be put upon 
your oath? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

The old man drew from his great-coat pocket a miniature 
copy of the Scriptures, and with the usual formalities admin- 
istered the oath. 

“ Now, then, my good soul, begin — ‘ the truth, the whole 
truth, and nothing but the truth,’ you know. But first, your 
name? ” 

“ Is it possible you don’t know me, master?” 

“ Not I, in faith.” 

“ For the love of heaven, look at me, and try to recollect 
me, sir ! It is necessary some' one in authority should be able 
to know me,” said the woman, raising her haggard eyes to 
the face of her visitor. 

The old man adjusted his spectacles and gave her a scruti- 
nizing look, exclaiming at intervals : 

“ Lord bless my soul, it is ! it ain’t ! it must ! it can’t be ! 
Granny Grewell, the — the — the — midwife that disappeared 
from here some twelve or thirteen years ago ! ” 

“ Yes, master, I am Nancy Grewell, the ladies’ nurse, who 
vanished from sight so mysteriously some thirteen years ago,” 
r eplied the woman. 


1 6 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


« Heaven help our hearts ! And for what crime was it you 
ran away ? Come — make a clean breast of it, woman ! You 
have nothing to fear in doing so, for you are past the arm of 
earthly law now ! ” 

“ I know it, master.” 

“ And the best way to prepare to meet the Divine Judge k 
to make all the reparation that you can by a full confession ! ” 

“ I know it, sir — if I had committed a crime ; but I have 
committed no crime ; neither did I run away.” 

“What? what? what? What was it, then? Remember, 
witness, you are on your oath.” 

“ I know that, sir, and I will tell the truth ; but it must be 
in my own way.” 

At this moment a violent blast of wind and hail roared 
down the mountain side and rattled against the walls, shaking 
the witch’s hut, as if it would have shaken it about their cars. 

It was a proper overture to the tale that was about to be 
told. Conversation was impossible until the storm raved past 
and was heard dying in deep, reverberating echoes from the 
depths of the Devil’s Punch Bowl. 

“ It is some thirteen years ago,” began Granny Grewell, 
“ upon just such a night of storm as this, that I was mounted 
an my old mule Molly, with my saddlebags full of dried yarbs 
and ’stilled waters and sich, as I alius carried when I was out 
’tendin’ on the sick. I was on my way a-going to see a lady 
as I was sent for to ’tend. 

“Well, master, I’m not ’shamed to say, as I never was 
afraid of man, beast, nor sperrit, and never stopped at going 
out all hours of the night, through the most lonesome roads, 
if so be I was called upon to do so. Still I must say that jest 
as me and Molly, my mule, got into that deep, thick, lone- 
some woods as stands round the old Hidden House in the 
hollow I did feel queerish ; ’case it was the dead hour of the 
night, and it was said how strange things were seen and 
hearn, yes, and done, too, in that dark, deep, lonesome place ! 
I seen how even my mule Molly felt queer, too, by the way 
she stuck up her ears, stiff as quills. So, partly to keep up my 
own spirits, and partly to ’courage her, says % 1 Molly,’ says I, 
* what are ye afeared on ? Be a man, Molly ! * But Molly 
stepped out cautious and pricked up her long ears all the same. 

“Well, master, it was so dark I couldn’t see a yard past 
Molly’s ears, and the path was so narrow and the bushes so 


THE MASKS. 


*7 

thick we could hardly get along ; and just as we came to the 
little creek, as they calls the Spout, ’cause the water jumps 
and jets along it till it empties into the Punch Bowl, and just 
as Molly was cautiously putting her fore foot into the water, 
out starts two men from the bushes and seized poor Molly’s 
bridle ! ” 

“ Good Heaven ! ” exclaimed Major Warfield. 

“Well, master, before I could cry out, one of them willain" 
seized me by the scruff of my neck, and, with his other hanc 
upon my mouth, he says : 

“ ‘ Be silent, you old fool, or I’ll blow your brains out ! ’ 

“ And then, master, I saw for the first time that their faces 
were covered over with black crape. I couldn’t a-screamed 
if they’d let me ! for my breath was gone and my senses were 
going along with it from the fear that was on me. 

“ ‘ Don’t struggle ; come along quietly, and you shall not 
be hurt,’ says the man as had spoke before. 

“ Struggle ! I couldn’t a-struggled to a-saved my soul ! I 
couldn’t speak ! I couldn’t breathe ! I liked to have a-dropped 
right offen Molly’s back. One on ’em says, says he : 

“ * Give her some brandy ! * And t’other takes out a flask 
and puts it to my lips and says, says he : 

“ * Here, drink this.’ 

“Well, master, as he had me still by the scruff o’ my neck I 
couldn’t do no other ways but open my mouth and drink it. 
And as soon as I took a swallow my breath came back and my 
speech. 

“ * And oh, gentlemen,’ says I, * ef it’s “ your money or your 
life ” you mean, I hain’t it about me ! ’Deed, ’clare to the 
Lord-a- mighty, I hain’t ! It’s wrapped up in an old cotton 
glove in a hole in the plastering in the chimney corner at home, 
and ef you’ll spare my life you can go there and get it,’ says I. 

“ i You old blockhead ! ’ says they, ‘ we want neither one 
nor t’other ! Come along quietly and you shall receive no 
harm. But at the first cry, or attempt to escape — this shall 
stop you ! ” And with that the willain held the mizzle of a 
pistil so nigh to my nose that I smelt brimstone, while t’other 
one bound a silk hankercher round my eyes, and then took 
poor Molly’s bridle and led her along. I couldn’t see, in 
course, and I dassint breathe for fear o’ the pistil. But I 
said my prayers to myself all the time. 

« Well, master, they led the mule o* down the path until 


i8 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


corned to a place wide enough to turn, when they turned of 
round and led us back outen the wood, and then 'round and 
round, and up and down, and crossways and lengthways, as ef 
they didn’t want me to find where they were taking me. 

“ Well, sir, when they’d walked about in this ’fused way, 
leadin’ of the mule about a mile, I knew we was in the woods 
again — the very same woods and the very same path — I, 
knowed by the feel of the place and the sound of the bushes 
as we hit up against them each side, and also by the rumbling 
of the Spout as it rumbled along toward the Punch Bowl. 
We went down and down and down, and lower and lower 
and lower until we got right down in the bottom of that hollow. 

“ Then we stopped. A gate was opened. I put up my 
hand to raise the hankerchief and see where I was ; but just 
at that minute I felt the mizzle o’ the pistol like a ring of ice 
right agin my temple, and the willain growling into my ear : 

“ * If you do ! ’ 

“ But I didn’t — I dropped my hand down as if I had been 
shot, and afore I had seen anything, either. So we went 
through the gate and up a gravelly walk — I knew it by the 
crackling of the gravel under Molly’s feet — and stopped at a 
horse-block, where one o’ them willains lifted me off. I put 
up my hand agin. 

“ ‘ Do if you dare ! ’ says t’other one, with the mizzle o’ the 
pistol at my head. 

“ I dropped my hand like lead. So they led me on a little 
way, and then up some steps. I counted them to myself as I 
went along. They were six. You see, master, I took all this 
pains to know the house agin. Then they opened a door 
that opened in the middle. Then they went along a passage 
and up more stairs — there was ten and a turn, and then ten 
more. Then along another passage, and up another flight of 
stairs just like the first. Then along another passage and up 
a third flight of stairs. They was alike. 

“Well, sir, here we was at the top o’ the house. One o’ 
them willains opened a door on the left side, and t’other said : 

“* There — go in and do )'our duty!’ and pushed me 
through the door and shut and locked it on me. Good gra- 
cious, sir, how scared I was ! I slipped off the silk handker- 
cher, and, ’feared as I was, I didn’t forget to put it in my 
bosom. 

“ Then I looked about me. Right afore me on the hearth 


THE MASKS. 


19 


was a little weeny taper burning, that showed I was in a great 
big garret with sloping walls. At one end two deep dormer 
windows and a black walnut bureau standing between them. 
At t’other end a great tester bedstead with dark curtains. 
There was a dark carpet on the floor. And with all there 
were so many dark objects and so many shadows, and the 
little taper burned so dimly that I could hardly tell t’other 
from which, or keep from breaking my nose against things as 
I groped about. 

“ And what was I in this room for to do? I couldn’t even 
form an idee. But presently my blood ran cold to hear a 
groan from behind the curtains ! then another ! and another \ 
then a cry as of some child in mortal agony, saying : 

“ 1 For the love of Heaven, save me ! * 

“ I ran to the bed and dropped the curtains and liked to 
have fainted at what I saw ! " 

“And what did you see? ” asked the magistrate. 

“ Master, behind those dark curtains I saw a young creature 
tossing about on the bed, flinging her hair and beautiful arms 
about and tearing wildly at the fine lace that trimmed her 
night-dress. But, master, that wasn’t what almost made me 
faint — it was that her right hand was sewed up in black crape, 
and her whole face and head completely covered with black 
crape drawn down and fastened securely around her throat, 
leaving only a small slit at the lips and nose to breathe 
through ! ” 

“ What ! Take care, woman ! Remember that you are 
upon your oath ! ” said the magistrate. 

“ I know it, master. And as I hope to be forgiven, I am 
telling you the truth ! ” 

“ Go on, then.” 

“ Well, sir, she was a young creature, scarcely past child- 
hood, if one might judge by her small size and soft, rosy skin. 
I asked her to let me take that black crape from her face and 
head, but she threw up her hands and exclaimed : 

“ ‘ Oh, no ; no, no ! for my life, no ! ’ 

“ Well, master, I hardly know how to tell you what fol- 
lowed,” said the old woman, hesitating in embarrassment. 

“ Go right straight on like a car of Juggernaut, woman ! 
Remember — the whole truth ! ” 

** Well, master, in the next two hours there were twins born 
in that room — a boy and a girl ; the boy was de«4. the girl 


20 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


living. And all the time I heard the measured tramping of 
one of them willains up and down the passage outside of that 
room. Presently the steps stopped, and there was a rap at 
the door. I went and listened, but did not open it. 

“ * Is it all over ? ’ the voice asked. 

“ Before I could answer a cry from the bed caused me to 
look round. There was the poor, masked mother stretching 
out her white arms toward me in the most imploring way. I 
hastened back to her. 

“ ‘ Tell him — no — no,’ she said. 

“ ‘ Have you got through ? * asked the man at the door, 
rapping impatiently. 

“ * No, no,’ said I, as directed. 

“ He resumed his tramping up and down, and I went back 
to my patient. She beckoned me to come close, and whis- 
pered : 

“ ‘ Save my child ! The living one, I mean ! Hide her l 
oh, hide her from him 1 When he demands the babe, give 
him the poor little dead one — he cannot hurt that ! And he 
will not know there was another. Oh ! hide and save my 
child ! ’ 

“ Master, I was used to queer doings, but this was a little 
the queerest. But if I was to conceal that second child in 
order to save it, it was necessary to stop its mouth, for it was 
squalling like a wild cat. So I took a vial of paregoric from 
my pocket and give it a drop and it went off to sleep like an 
angel. I wrapped it up warm and lay it along with my shawl 
and bonnet in a dark corner. Just then the man rapped again. 

“ 1 Come in, master,’ said I. 

“ * No, bring me the babe,’ he said. 

“ I took up the dead infant. Its mother kissed its brow 
and dropped tears upon its little cold face. And I carried it 
\p the man outside. 

“ ‘ Is it asleep? ’ the willain asked me. 

“ ‘ Yes, master,’ said I as I put it, well wrapped up, in his 
arms ; 1 very sound aslep.’ 

“ ‘ So much the better,’ said the knave, walking away. 

“ I bolted the door and went back to my patient. With 
yier free hand she seized mine and pressed it to her lips and 
then, holding up her left hand, pointed to the wedding ring 
upon her third finger. 

“ * Draw it off and keep it,’ she said ; ( conceal the child 


THE MASKS. 


21 


wider your shawl and take her with you when you go ! Save 
her and your fortune shall be made.’ 

“ I declare, master, I hadn’t time to think, before I heard 
one of them wretches rap at the door. 

w ‘ Come ! Get ready to go,’ he said. 

“ She also beckoned me. I hastened to her. With eager 
whispers and imploring gestures she prayed me to take her 
ring and save her child. 

“ * But you,’ said I, ‘ who is to attend to you? ’ 

“ ‘ I do not know or care ! Save her ! ’ 

“ The rapping continued. I ran to the comer where I had 
left my things. I put on my bonnet, made a sort of sling 
around my neck of the silk handkercher, opened the large 
part of it like a hammock and laid the little sleeping babe 
there. Then I folded my big shawl around my breast and 
nobody any the wiser. The rapping was very impatient. 

“ * I am coming,’ said I. 

“ 1 Remember ! ’ whispered the poor girl. 

“ 1 1 will,’ said I, and wen!: out and opened the door. 
There stood t’other willain with his head covered with black 
crape. I dreamt of nothing but black-headed demons for six 
months afterward. 

“ * Are you ready ? ’ says he. 

“ 1 Yes, your worship,’ says I. 

“ 1 Come along, then.’ 

“ And, binding another silk hankercher round my eyes, he 
led me along. 

“ Instead of my mule, a carriage stood near the horseblock. 

“ 1 Get in,’ says he, holding the pistil to my ears by way of 
an argument. 

“ I got in. He jumped up upon the driver’s seat and we 
drove like the wind. In another direction from that in which 
we come, in course, for there was no carriage road there. 
The carriage whirled along at such a rate it made me quite 
giddy. At last it stopped again. The man in the mask got 
down and opened the door. 

“ 1 Where are you taking me ? ’ says I. 

“ * Be quiet,’ says he, ‘ or ’ And with that he put the 

pistil to my cheek, ordered me to get out, take the bandage 
from my eyes and walk before him. I did so and saw dimly 
that we were in a part of the country that I was never at 
before. We were in a dark road through a thick forest. On 


22 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


the left side of the road in a clearing stood an old house ; a 
dim light was burning in a lower window. 

“ ‘ Go on in there/ said the willain, putting the pistil to 
the back of my head. As the door stood ajar I went in, to a 
narrow, dark passage, the man all the time at my back. He 
opened a door on the left side and made me go into a dark 
room. Just then the unfortunate child that had been moving 
restlessly began to wail. Well it might, poor, starved thing ! 

“ ‘ What’s that ? ’ says the miscreant under his breath and 
stopping short. 

“ * It ain’t nothing, sir/ says I, and 1 Hush-h-h * to the 
baby. But the poor little wretch raised a squall. 

“ 4 What is the meaning of this? ’ says he. * Where did 
that child come from? Why the demon don’t you speak? ’ 
And with that he seized me again by the scruff of the neck 
and shook me. 

“ 1 Oh, master, for the love of Heaven don’t ! ’ says I. ‘ This 
is only a poor unfortnet infant as its parents wanted to get 
outen the way, and hired me to take care on. And I have had 
it wrapped up under my shawl all the time ’cept when I was 
in your house, when I put it to sleep in the corner.’ 

“ ‘ Humph — and you had that child concealed under your 
shawl when I first stopped you in the woods ? * 

“ * In course, master/ says I. 

“ 1 Whose is it ? ’ 

“ * Master/ says I, * it’s — it’s a dead secret ! ’ for I hadn’t 
another lie ready. 

“ He broke out into a rude, scornful laugh, and seemed not 
half to believe me and yet not to care about questioning me 
too closely. He made me sit down then in the dark, and 
vent out and turned the key on me. I wet my finger with 
the paregoric and put it to the baby’s lips to quiet its pains of 
hunger. Then I heard a whispering in the next room. Now 
my eyesight never was good, but to make up for it I believe I 
had the sharpest ears that ever was, and I don’t think anybody 
could have heard that whispering but me. I saw a little 
glimmer of light through the chinks that showed me where the 
door was, and so I creeped up to it and put my ear to the 
keyhole. Still they whispered so low that no ears could o’ 
heard them but my sharp ones. The first words I heard good 
was a grumbling voice asking : 

“ ‘ How old ? * 


THE MASKS. 


23 

“ * Fifty — more or less, but strong, active, a good nurse and 
a very light mulatto/ says my willain’s voice. 

“ * Hum — too old/ says the other. 

“ * But I will throw the child in/ 

“ A low, crackling laugh the only answer. 

“ 4 You mean that would be only a bother. Well, I want to 
get rid of the pair of them/ said my willain, 1 so name the 
price you are willing to give/ 

“ ‘ Cap’n, you and me have had too many transactions to- 
gether to make any flummery about this. You want to get 
shet o’ them pair. I hain’t no objections to turning an honest 
penny. So jest make out the papers — bill o’ sale o’ the ’oman 
Kate, or whatsoever her name may be, and the child, with any 
price you please, so it is only a make-believe price, and I’ll 
engage to take her away and make the most I can of them in 
the South — that won’t be much, seeing it’s only an old ’oman 
and child — scarcely a fair profit on the expense o’ takin’ of 
her out. Now, as money’s no object to you, Cap’n ” 

“ * Very well ; have your own way ; only don’t let that woman 
escape and return, for if you do ’ 

“ 1 1 understand, Cap’n ; but I reckon you needn’t threaten, 
for if you could blow me — why, I would return you the same 
favor/ said the other, raising his voice and laughing aloud. 

“ ‘ Be quiet, fool, or come away farther — here/ And the 
two willains moved out of even my hearing. 

“ * I should o’ been uneasy, master, if it hadn’t been the 
’oman they were talking about was named Kate, and that 
wasn’t my name, which were well beknown to be Nancy.’ 

“ Presently I heard the carriage drive away. And almost 
'mediately after the door was unlocked, and a great, big, 
black-bearded and black-headed beast of a ruffian came in, 
and says he : 

“ 1 Well, my woman, have you had any supper ? ’ 

“ ‘ No/ said I, ‘ I hain’t ; and ef I’m to stay here any length 
of time I’d be obleeged to you to let me have some hot water 
and milk to make pap for this perishing baby.’ 

“ 1 Follow me/ says he. 

“ And he took me into the kitchen at the back of the house, 
where there was a fire in the fireplace and a cupboard with all 
that I needed. Well, sir, not to tire you, I made a nursing- 
bottle for the baby and fed it. And then I got something for 
my own supper, or, rather, breakfast, for it was now near the 


24 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


dawn of day. Well, sir, I thought I would try to get out and 
look about myself to see what the neighborhood looked like 
by daylight, but when I tried the door I found myself locked 
up a close prisoner. I looked out of the window and saw 
nothing but a little back yard, closed in by the woods. I tried 
to raise the sash, but it was nailed down. The black-headed 
monster came in just about that minute, and seeing what I 
was a-doing of, says he : 

“ ‘ Stop that ! ’ 

“‘What am I stopped here for?’ says I; ‘a free ’oman,’ 
tays I, a-’vented of going about her own business? ’ says I. 

“ But he only laughed a loud, crackling, scornful laugh, and 
went out, turning the key after him. 

“ A little after sunrise an old, dried-up, spiteful looking hag 
of a woman came in and began to get breakfast. 

“ * What am I kept here for ? ’ says I to her. 

“ But she took no notice at all ; nor could I get so much as 
a single word outen her. In fact, master, the. little ’oman was 
deaf an’ dumb. 

“Well, sir, to be short, I was kept in that place all day 
long, and when night come I was druv into a shay at the point 
of the pistil, and rattled along as fast as the horses could gallop 
over a road as I knew nothing of. We changed horses wunst 
or twict, and just about the dawn of day we come to a broad 
river with a vessel laying to, not far from the shore. 

“ As soon as the shay druv down on the sands, the willain as 
had run away with me puts a pipe to his willainous mouth and 
blows like mad. Somebody else blowed back from the wessel. 
Then a boat was put off and rowed ashore. I was forced to 
get into it, and was follered by the willain. We was rowed to 
the wessel, and I was druv up the ladder on to the decks. 
And there, master, right afore my own looking eyes, me and 
the baby was traded off to the captain ! It was no use for me 
to ’splain or ’spostulate. I wasn’t b’lieved. The willain as 
had stole me got back into the boat and went ashore, and I 
saw him get into the shay and drive away. It was no use for 
me to howl and cry, though I did both, for I couldn’t even 
hear myself for the swearing of the captain and the noise of 
the crew, as they was a gettin’ of the wessel under way. Well, 
sir, we sailed down that river and out to sea. 

“Now, sir, come a strange providence, which the yery 
thoughts of it might convert a heathen ! We had been to sea 


THE MASKS. 


25 


about five days when a dreadful storm riz. Oh, marster ! the 
inky blackness of the sky, the roaring of the wind, the raging 
of the sea, the leaping of the waves and the rocking of that 
wessel — and every once in a while sea and ship all ablaze with 
the blinding lightning — was a thing to see, not to hear tell of ! 
I tell you, marster, that looked like the wrath of God ! And 
then the cursing and swearing and bawling of the captain and 
the crew, as they were a-takin’ in of sail, was enough to raise 
one’s hair on their head ! I hugged the baby to my breast, 
and went to praying as hard as ever I could pray. 

“ Presently I felt an awful shock, as if heaven an’ earth had 
come together, and then everybody screaming, ‘ She’s struck ! 
She’s struck ! ’ I felt the wessel trembling like a live creetur, 
and the water a-pouring in everywhere. I hugged the babe 
and scrambled up the companionway to the deck. It was 
pitch dark, and I heard every man rushing toward one side of 
the wessel. 

“ A flash of lightning that made everything as bright as day 
again showed me that they were all taking to the boat. I 
rushed after, calling to them to save me and the baby. But 
no one seemed to hear me ; they were all too busy trying to 
save themselves and keep others out of the boat, and cursing 
and swearing and hollering that there was no more room, that 
the boat would be swamped, and so on. The end was, that 
all who could crowd into the boat did so. And me and the 
baby and a poor sailor lad and the black cook were left behind 
to perish. 

“ But, marster, as it turned out, we as was left to die were 
the only ones saved. We watched after that boat with long- 
ing eyes, though we could only see it when the lightning 
flashed. And every time we saw it it was farther off. At last, 
marster, a flash of lightning showed us the boat as far off as 
ever we could see her, capsized and beaten hither and thither 
by' the wild waves — its crew had perished. 

“ Marster, as soon as the sea had swallowed up that wicked 
captain and crew the wind died away, the waves fell and the 
storm lulled — just as if it had done what it was sent to do and 
was satisfied. The wreck — where we poor forlorn ones stood 
— the wreck that had shivered and trembled with every wave 
that struck it, — until we had feared it would break up every 
minute, became still and firm on its sand-bar, as a house on dry 
land. 


26 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


" Daylight came at last. And a little after sunrise we saw 
a sail bearing down upon us. We could not signal the sail, 
but by the mercy of Providence, she saw us and lay to, and 
sent off a boat and picked us up and took us on board — me 
and the baby and the cook and the sailor lad. 

* “ It was a foreign wessel, and we could not understand a 
word they said, nor they us. All we could do was by signs. 
But they were very good to us — dried our clothes and gave us 
breakfast and made us lie down and rest, and then put about 
and continued their course. The sailor lad — Herbert Greyson 
— soon found out and told me they were bound for New York. 
And, in fact, marster, in about ten days we made that port. 

“ When the ship anchored below the Battery, the officers 
and passengers made me up a little bundle of clothes and a 
little purse of money and put me ashore, and there I was in a 
strange city, so bewildered I didn’t know which way to turn. 
While I was a-standing there, in danger of being run over b) 
the omnibuses, the sailor boy came to my side and told m< 
that he and the cook was gwine to engage on board of another 
’Merican wessel, and axed me what I was gwine to do. I tolu 
him how I didn’t know nothing at all ’bout sea sarvice, and 
so I didn’t know what I should do. Then he said he’d show 
me where I could go and stay all night, and so he took me into 
a little by-st. eet, to a poor-looking house, where the people 
took lodgers, and there he left me to go aboard the ship. As 
he went away he advised me to take care of my money and 
try to get a servant’s place. 

“ Well, marster, I ain’t a gwine to bother you with telling 
you of how I toiled and struggled along in that great city — 
first living out as a servant, and afterward renting a room and 
taking in washing and ironing — ay ! how I toiled and strug- 
gled — for — ten — long — years, hoping for the time to come 
when I should be able to return to this neighborhood, where 
• I was known, and expose the evil deeds of them willains. And 
for this cause I lived on, toiling and struggling and laying up 
money penny by penny. Sometimes I was fool enough to 
tell my story in the hopes of getting pity and help — but tell- 
ing my story always made it worse for me ! some thought me 
crazy and others thought me deceitful, which is not to be 
wondered at, for I was a stranger and my adventures were, 
indeed, beyond belief. 

" No one ever helped me but the lad Herbert Greyson. 


THE MASKS. 


27 

W’enver he came from sea he sought me out and made a 
little present to me or Cap. 

“ Cap, marster, was Capitola, the child. The reason I gave 
her that name was because on that ring I had drawn from the 
masked mother’s hand were the two names — Eugene — Capi- 
tola. 

“Well, marster, the last time Herbert Greyson came home 
he gave me five dollars, and that, with what I had saved, was 
enough to pay my passage to Norfolk. 

“ I left my little Cap in the care of the people of the house 
— she was big enough to pay for her keep in work — and I 
took passage for Norfolk. When I got there I fell ill, spent 
all my money, and was at last taken to the poor-house. Six 
months passed away before I was discharged, and then six 
months more before 1 had earned and saved money enough to 
pay my way on here. 

“ I reached here three days ago and found a wheat field 
growing where my cottage fire used to burn, and all my old 
cronies dead, all except Old Hat, who has received and given 
me shelter. Sir, my story is done — make what you can of it,” 
said the invalid, sinking down in her bed as if utterly ex- 
hausted. 

Old Hurricane, whose countenance, had expressed emotions 
as powerful as they were various while listening to this tale, 
now arose, stepped cautiously to the door, drew the bolt, and, 
coming back, bent his head and asked : 

“ What more of the child? ” 

“Cap, sir? I have not heard a word of Cap since I left 
her to try to find out her friends. But any one interested in 
her might inquire for her at Mrs. Simmons’, laundress, No. 8 
Rag Alley.” 

“ You say the names upon that ring were Eugene — Cap- 
itola? ” 

“ Yes, sir, they were.” 

“ Have you that ring about you ? ” 

“ No, marster. I thought it was best in case of accidents to 
leave it with the child.” 

“ Have you told her any part of this strange history? ” 

“ No, marster, nor hinted at it ; she was too young for such 
a confidence.” 

“ You were right. Had she any mark about her person by 
which she could be identified?” 


28 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Yes, marster, a very strange one. In the middle of her 
left palm was the perfect image of a crimson hand, about half 
an inch in length. There was also another. Henry Greyson, 
to please me, marked upon her forearm, in India ink, her 
name and birthday — ‘Capitola, Oct. 31st, 1832.’ ” 

“ Right ! Now tell me, my good soul, do you know, from 
what you were able to observe, what house that was where 
Capitola was born?” 

“ I am on my oath ! No, sir ; I do not know, but ” 

“ You suspect? ” 

The woman nodded. 

“It was ’’said old Hurricane, stooping and whis- 

pering a name that was heard by no one but the sick 
woman. 

She nodded again, with a look of intense meaning. 

“Does your old hostess here, Hat, know or suspect any- 
thing of this story?” inquired Major Warfield. 

“ Not a word ! No soul but yourself has heard it ! ” 

“ That is right ! Still be discreet ! If you would have the 
wicked punished and the innocent protected, be silent and 
wary. Have no anxiety about the girl. What man can do 
for her will I do and quickly ! And now, good creature, day 
is actually dawning. You must seek repose. And I must 
call the parson in and return home. I will send Mrs. Condi- 
ment over with food, wine, medicine, clothing and every com- 
fort that your condition requires,” said Old Hurricane, ising 
and calling in the clergyman, with whom he soon after left 
the hut for home. 

They reached Hurricane Hall in time for an early break- 
fast, which the astonished housekeeper had prepared, and for 
which their night’s adventures had certainly given them a good 
appetite. 

Major Warfield kept his word, and as soon as breakfast was 
over he dispatched Mrs. Condiment with a carriage filled with 
provisions for the sick woman. But they were not needed. 
In a couple of hours the housekeeper returned with the intel- 
ligence that the old nurse was dead. The false strength of 
mental excitement that had enabled her to tell so long and 
dreadful a tale had been the last flaring up of the flame of life 
that almost immediately went out. 

“ I am not sorry, upon the whole, for now I shall have the 
game in my own hands ! ” muttered Old Hurricane to himself. 


29 


THE QUEST. 

fi Ah ! Gabrielle Le Noir, better you had cast yourself down 
from the highest rock of this range and been dashed to pieces 
below, than have thus fallen into my power ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 

THE QUEST. 

Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling 
And out he rode, 

— Hudibras. 

Pursuant to the orders of Major Warfield, the corpse of 
the old midwife was the next day after her decease brought 
over and quietly interred in the family graveyard of Hurricane 
Hall. 

And then Major Warfield astonished his household by giv- 
ing orders to his housekeeper and his body-servant to prepare 
his wardrobe and pack his trunks for a long journey to the 
north. 

“ What can the major be thinking of, to be setting out for 
the north at this time of the year?” exclaimed good little 
Mrs. Condiment, as she picked over her employer’s shirts, 
selecting the newest and warmest to be done up for the oc- 
casion. 

“ Lord A’mighty o’ny knows ; but ’pears to me marster’s 
never been right in his headpiece since Hollow-eve night, 
when he took that ride to the Witch’s Hut,” replied Wool, 
who, with brush and sponge, was engaged in rejuvenating his 
master’s outer garments. 

But, let his family wonder as they would, Old Hurricane 
kept his own counsel — only just as he was going away, lest 
mystery should lead to investigation, and that to discovery, 
the old man gave out that he was going north to invest capital 
in bank stock, and so, quite unattended, he departed. 

His servant Wool, indeed, accompanied him as far as Tip- 
Top, the little hamlet on the mountain at which he was to 
meet the eastern stage; but there having seen his master 
comfortably deposited in the inside of the coach, and the lug- 
gage safely stowed in the boot, Wool was ordered to return 
with the carriage. And Major Warfield proceeded on his 
journey alone. This also caused much speculation in. the 
family. 


30 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Who’s gwine to make his punch and warm his bed and 
put his slippers on the hearth and hang his gown to de fire ? — 
that what I want to know ! ” cried the grieved and indignant 
Wool. 

“ Oh, the waiters at the taverns where he stops can do that 
for him,” said Mrs. Condiment. 

“ No, they can’t, nuther ; they don’t know his ways ! they 
don’t know nuffin’ ’bout him ! I ’clare, I think our ole 
marse done gone clean crazy ! I shouldn’t be s’prised he’d 
gone off to de norf to get married, and was to bring home a 
young wife to we dem ! ” 

“ Tut ! tut ! tut ! such talk ! That will never do ! ” ex- 
claimed the deeply shocked Mrs. Condiment. 

“ Werry well ! All I say is, 4 Dem as libs longest will see 
most ! ’ ” said Wool, shaking his white head. After which un- 
deniable apothegm the conversation came to a stand. 

Meanwhile, Old Hurricane pursued his journey — a lumber- 
ing, old-fashioned stage-coach ride — across the mountains, 
creeping at a snail’s crawl up one side of the precipice and 
clattering thunderously down the other at a headlong speed 
that pitched the back-seat passengers into the bosoms of the 
front ones and threatened even to cast the coach over the 
heads of the horses. Three days and nights of such rugged 
riding brought the traveler to Washington City, where he 
rested one night and then took the cars for New York. He 
rested another night in Philadelphia, resumed his journey by 
the first train in the morning and reached New York about 
noon. 

The crowd, the noise, the hurry and confusion at the whart 
almost drove this irascible old gentleman mad. 

44 No, confound you ! ” 

“ I’ll see your neck stretched first, you villain ! ” 

44 Out of my way, or I’ll break your head, sirrah ! ” were 
some of his responses to the solicitous attentions of cabmen 
and porters. At length, taking up his heavy carpet-bag in 
both hands, Old Hurricane began to lay about him, with such 
effect that he speedily cleared a passage for himself through 
the crowd. Then addressing a cabman who had not offended 
by speaking first, he said : 

“ Here, sir ! Here are my checks ! Go get my luggage 
and take it to the Astor House. Hand the clerk this card, 
and tell him I want a good room, well warmed. I shall take 


CAPITOLA. 


3i 

a walk around the city before going. And, hark ye ! If one 
of my trunks is missing I’ll have you hanged, you rogue ! ” 

“ Breach of trust isn’t a hanging matter in New York, your 
honor,” laughed the cabman, as he touched his hat and hur- 
ried off toward the crowd collected around the baggage car. 

Old Hurricane made a step or two as if he would have 
pursued and punished the flippancy of the man, but finally 
thought better of it, picked up his portmanteau and walked 
up the street s^wly, with frequent pauses and bewildered 
looks, as though he had forgotten his directions or lost his 
way, and yet hesitated to inquire of any one for the obscure 
little alley in which he had been told to look for his treasure. 


CHAPTER IV. 

CAPITOLA. 

Her sex a page’s dress belied, 

Obscured her charms but could not hide. 

— Scott. 

“Please, sir, do you want your carpet-bag carried? ” asked 
a voice near. 

Old Hurricane looked around him with a puzzled air, for 
he thought that a young girl had made this offer, so soft and 
clear were the notes of the voice that spoke. 

“ It was I, sir ! Here I am, at yours and everybody’s ser- 
vice, sir ! ” said the same voice. 

And turning, Old Hurricane saw sitting astride a pile of 
boxes at the corner store, a very ragged lad some thirteen 
years of age. 

“ Good gracious ! ” thought Old Hurricane, as he gazed 
upon the boy, “ this must be crown prince and heir apparent 
to the * king of shreds and patches ! ’ ” 

“ Well, old gent ! you’ll know me next time, that’s certain,” 
said the lad, returning the look with interest. 

It is probable Old Hurricane did not hear this irreverent 
speech, for he continued to gaze with pity and dismay upon 
the ragamuffin before him. He was a handsome boy, too, 
notwithstanding the deplorable state of his wardrobe. Thick, 
clustering curls of jet-black hair fell in tangled disorder around 
a forehead broad, white and smooth as that of a girl ; slender 
and quaintly arched black eyebrows played above a pair of 


32 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


mischievous, dark-gray eyes that sparkled beneath the shade 
of long, thick, black lashes ; a little turned-up nose, and red, 
pouting lips completed the character of a countenance full of 
fun, frolic, spirit and courage. 

"Well, governor, if you’ve looked long enough, maybe 
you’ll take me into service,” said the lad, winking to a group 
of his fellow-newsboys that had gathered at the corner. 

" Dear ! dear ! dear ! he looks as if he had never in his life 
seen soap and water or a suit of whole clothes ! ” ejaculated 
the old gentleman, adding, kindly: " Yes, I reckon I will give 
you the job, my son ! ” 

" His son ! Oh, crikey ! do you hear that, fellows ? His 
son? Oh, Lor’ ! my governor’s turned up at last. I’m his 
son ! oh, gemini ! But what did I tell you ! I always had a 
sort of impression that I must have had a father in some 
former period of my life ; and, behold, here he is ! Who 
knows but I might have had a mother also? But that isn’t 
likely. Still, I’ll ask him. How’s the old woman, sir ? ” 
said the newsboy, jumping off the boxes and taking the 
carpet-bag in his hand. 

"What are you talking about, you infatuated tatterde- 
malion? Come along ! If it weren’t for pity I’d have you put 
in the pillory ! ” exclaimed Old Hurricane, shaking his cane at 
the offender. 

" Thanky, sir ! I’ve not had a pillow under my head for a 
long time.” 

" Silence, ragamuffin ! ” 

" Just so, sir 1 * a dumb devil is better than a talking one ! ’ ” 
answered the lad, demurely following his employer. 

They went on some distance, Old Hurricane diligently 
reading the names of the streets at the corners. Presently he 
stopped again, bewildered, and after gazing around himself for 
a few minutes, said : 

“ Boy ! ” 

" Yes , sir ! ” 

‘ Do you know such a place as Rag Alley in Manillo Street? ” 

" Rag Alley, sir? ” 

"Yes; a sort of narrow, dark, musty place, with a row of 
old, tumble-down tenements each side, where poor wretches 
live all huddled up together, fifty m a house, eh? I was told 
I couldn’t drive up it in a carriage, so I had to walk. Do you 
know such a place? ” 


CAPITOLA. 


33 

“ Do 1 know such a place ! Do I know Rag Alley ? Oh, 
my eye ! Oh, he ! he ! he ! he ! ” 

“ What are you laughing at now, you miscellaneous assort- 
ment of variegated pieces? ” 

“ Oh ! oh, dear ! I was laughing to think how well I knew 
Rag Alley ! ” 

“ Humph ! you do look as if you were born and bred there.’* 

“ But, sir, I wasn’t ! ” 

“ Humph ! How did you get into life, then? ” 

“ I don’t know, governor, unless I was raked up from the 
gutter by some old woman in the rag-picking line ! ” said the 
newsboy, demurely. 

“ Humph. I think that quite likely 1 But now, do you 
say that you know where that alley is? ” 

“ Oh, don’t set me off again ! Oh, he ! he ! he ! Yes, 
sir, I know.” 

“ Well, then, show me the way and don’t be a fool ! ” 

“ I’d scorn to be it, sir. This is the way ! ” said the lad, 
taking the lead. 

They walked on several squares, and then the boy stopped, 
and pointing down a cross-street, said : 

“ There, governor ; there you are.” 

“ There ! Where ? Why that’s a handsome street ! ” said 
Old Hurricane, gazing up in admiration at the opposite blocks 
of stately brown-stone mansions. 

“ That’s it, hows’ever ! That’s Rag Alley. ’Tain’t called 
Rag Alley now, though ! It’s called Hifalutin Terrace ! 
Them tenements you talk of were pulled down more’n a 
year ago and these houses put up in their place,” said the 
toewsboy. 

“ Dear ! dear ! dear ! what changes ! And what became of 
the poor tenants ? ” asked Old Hurricane, gazing in dismay 
at the inroads of improvement. 

“ The tenants ? poor wretches ! how do I know ? Carted 
away, blown away, thrown away, with the other rubbish. 
What became of the tenants? 

“ ‘ Ask of the winds that far around 
With fragments strewed the sea-ty ! 5 

I heard that spouted at a school exhibition once, governor ! ” 
said the lad, demurely. 

“ Humph 1 well, well well ! the trace is lost 1 What shall I 


34 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


do? — put advertisements in all the daily papers — apply at the 
chief police office? Yes, I’ll do both,” muttered Old Hurri- 
cane to himself ; then, speaking out, he called : 

“ Boy ! ” 

“ Yes, sir l ” 

“ Call me a cab ! ” 

“ Yes, sir ! ” And the lad was off like an arrow to do his 
bidding. 

In a few moments the cab drove up. The ne T rsboy, who 
was sitting beside the driver, jumped down and sa d : 

“ Here it is, sir ! ” 

“ Thank you, my son ; here is your lee,” said Old Hurri* 
cane, putting a silver dollar into the lad’s hand. 

“ What ! Lor’, it can’t be ! but it is ! He must have made 
a mistake ! What if he did, I don’t care ! Yes, J do, too ! 

* Honor bright ! ’ ” exclaimed the newsboy, looking in wonder 
and desire and sore temptation upon the largest piece of 
money he had ever touched in his life. “ Governor ! ” 

“ Well, boy?” said the old gentleman, with his feet upon 
the steps of the cab. 

“ You’ve been and done and gone and give me a whole 
dollar by mistake ! ” 

“ And why should you think it a mistake, you impertinent 
monkey? ” 

“Your honor didn’t mean it? ” 

“Why not, you young rascal? Of course I did. Take it 
and be off with you ! ” said Old Hurricane, beginning to 
ascend the steps. 

“ Pm a great mind to,” said the newsboy, still gazing on 
the coin with satisfaction and desire — “ I’m a great mind to ; 
but I won’t ! ’tain’t fair 1 Governor, I say ! ” 

“ What now, you troublesome fellow? ” 

“ Do stop a minute ! Don’t tempt me too hard, ’cause, 
you see, I ain’t sure I could keep honest if I was tempted too 
hard.” 

“ What do you mean now, you ridiculous little ape? ” 

“ I mean I know you’re from the country, and don’t know 
no better, and I mus’n’t impose upon your ignorance.” 

“ My ignorance, you impudent villain ! ” exclaimed the old 
man, with rising WTath. 

“ Yes, governor ; you hain’t cut your eye-teeth yet ! you 
hain’t up to snuff ! you don’t know nothing ! Why, this is too 


CAPITOLA. 


35 


much for toting a carpet-bag a half a dozen squares ; and it’s 
very well you fell in with a honest lad like me, that wouldn’t 
impose on your innocence. Bless you, the usual price isn’t 
more’n a dime, or, if you’re rich and generous, a shillin’; 
but ” 

“ What the deuce do I care for the usual price, you — you — 
you perfect prodigy of patches? There, for the Lord’s sake, 
go get yourself a decent suit of clothes ! Drive on, cabman ! ” 
roared Old Hurricane, flinging an eagle upon the sidewalk and 
rolling off in his cab. 

“ Poor dear, old gentleman ! I wonder where his keeper 
is? How could he have got loose? Maybe I’d better go and 
tell the police ! But then I don’t know who he is, or where 
he’s gone ! But he is very crazy, and I’m afraid he’ll fling 
away every cent of his money before his friends can catch 
him. I know what I’ll do. I’ll go to the stand and watch 
for the cab to come back and ask the driver what he has done 
with the poor, dear old fellow ! ” said the newsboy, picking 
up the gold coin and putting it into his pocket. And then he 
started, but with an eye to business, singing out : 

“ Herald ! Triebune ! Express ! last account of the orful 
accident — steamer,” etc., etc., etc., selling his papers as he 
went on to the cab-stand. He found the cabman already 
there. And to his anxious inquiries as to the sanity of the 
old gentleman, that Jehu replied : < 

“Oh, bless your soul, crazy? No; no more’n you or I. 
He’s a real nob — a real Virginian, F. F. V., with money like 
the sands on the seashore ! Keep the tin, lad ; he knowed 
what he was a-doin’ on.” 

“ Oh, it a’most scares me to have so much money ! ” ex- 
claimed the boy, half in delight, half in dismay ; “ but to- 
night I’ll have a warm supper and sleep in a bed once more ! 
And to-morrow a new suit of clothes ! So here goes — 
Herald ! Express ! — full account — the horrible murder — 
Bell Street — Ledgee-ee-ee,” etc., etc., etc., crying his papers 
until he was out of hearing. 

Never in his life had the newsboy felt so prosperous and 
happy. 


36 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE DISCOVERY. 

“ And at the magistrate’s command, 

And next undid the leathern band 
That bound her tresses there, 

And raised her felt hat from her head, 

And down her slender form there spread 
Black ringlets rich and rare.” 

Old Hurricane meanwhile dined at the public table at the 
Astor, and afterward went to his room to rest, smoke and 
ruminate. And he finished the evening by supping and retir- 
ing to bed. 

In the morning, after an early breakfast, he wrote a dozen 
advertisements and called a cab and rode around to leave 
them with the various daily papers for immediate publication. 
Then, to lose no time, he rode up to the Recorder’s office to 
set the police upon the search. 

As he was about to enter the front portal he observed the 
doorway and passage blocked up with even a larger crowd than 
usual. 

And seeing the cabman who had waited upon him the pre- 
ceding day, he inquired of him : 

“What is the matter here?” 

“ Nothing, your honor, ’cept a boy tuk up for wearing girl’s 
clothes, or a girl tuk up for wearing boy’s, I dunno which,” said 
the man, touching his hat. 

“ Let me pass, then ; I must speak to the chief of police,” 
said Old Hurricane, shoving his way into the Recorder’s room. 

“ This is not the office of the chief, sir ; you will find him 
on the other side of the hall,” said a bystander. 

But before Old Hurricane had gathered the sense of these 
words, a sight within the office drew his steps thither. Up 
before the Recorder stood a lad of about thirteen years, who, 
despite his smart, new suit of gray casinet, his long, rolling, 
black ringlets and his downcast and blushing face, Old Hur- 
ricane immediately recognized as his acquaintance of the pre- 
ceding day, the saucy young tatterdemalion. 


THE DISCOVERY. 


37 

Feeling sorry for the friendless boy, the old man impul- 
sively went up to him and patted him on the shoulder, say- 
ing : 

“What! In trouble, my lad? Never mind; never look 
down ! I’ll warrant ye an honest lad from what I’ve seen my- 
self. Come ! come ! pluck up a spirit ! I’ll see you through, 
my lad.” 

“ i Lad ! ’ Lord bless your soul, sir, he’s no more a lad than 
you or I ! The young rascal is a girl in boy’s clothes, sir ! ” 
said the officer who had the culprit in custody. 

“ What — what — what ! ” exclaimed Old Hurricane, gazing 
in consternation from the young prisoner to the accuser; 
u what — what ! my newsboy, my saucy little prince of patches, 
a Kiri in boy’s clothes? ” 

“ Yes, sir — a young scoundrel ! I actually twigged him 
selling papers at the Fulton Ferry this morning ! A little 
rascal ! ” 

“ A girl in boy’s clothes ! A girl ! ” exclaimed Old Hurri- 
cane, with his eyes nearly starting out of his head. 

Just then the young culprit looked up in his face with an 
expression half melancholy, half mischievous, that appealed to 
the rugged heart of the old man. Turning around to the 
policeman, he startled the whole office by roaring out : 

“Girl, is she, sir? Then, demmy, sir, whether a girl in 
boy’s clothes, or men’s clothes, or soldier’s clothes, or sailor’s 
clothes, or any clothes, or no clothes, sir, treat her with the 
delicacy due to womanhood, sir ! ay, and the tenderness 
owed to childhood ! for she is but a bit of a poor, friendless, 
motherless, fatherless child, lost and wandering in your great 
Babylon ! No more hard words to her, sir — or by the ever- 
lasting ” 

“Order ! ” put in the calm and dignified Recorder. 

Old Hurricane, though his face was still purple, his veins 
swollen and his eyeballs glaring with anger, immediately recov- 
ered himself, turned and bowed to the Recorder and said : 

“Yes, sir, I will keep order, if you’ll make that brute of a 
policeman reform his language ! ” 

And so saying Old Hurricane subsided into a seat imme- 
diately behind the child, to watch the examination. 

“ What’ll they do with her, do you think? ” he inquired of 
a bystander. 

“ Send her down, in course.” 


38 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


u Down ! Where ? " 

“To Blackwell’s Island — to the work'us, in course.” 

“ To the workhouse — her, that child ? — the wretches ! Um- 
m-m-me ! Oh-h-h ! ” groaned Old Hurricane, stooping and 
burying his shaggy gray head in his great hands. 

He felt his shoulder touched, and, looking up, saw that the 
little prisoner had turned around, and was about to speak to 
him 

u Governor," said the same clear voice that he had even at 
first supposed to belong to a girl — “ Governor, don’t you keep 
on letting out that way ! You don’t know nothing ! You’re 
in the Recorder’s Court ! If you don’t mind your eye they’ll 
commit you for contempt ! ’’ 

“ Will they? Then they’ll do well, my lad ! Lass, I mean. 

I plead guilty to contempt. Send a child like you to the ! 

They shan’t do it ! Simply, they shan’t do it ! I, Major 
Warfield of Virginia, tell you so, my boy — girl, I mean ! ’’ 

“ But, you innocent old lion, instead of freeing me, you'll 
find yourself shut up between four walls ! and very narrow 
ones at that, I tell you ! You’ll think yourself in your coffin ! 
Governor, they call it The Tombs ! ’’ whispered the child. 

“Attention!" said the clerk. 

The little prisoner turned and faced the court. And the 
" old lion ’’ buried his shaggy, gray head and beard in his 
hands and groaned aloud. 

“ Now, then, what is your name, my lad — my girl, I should 
say?" inquired the clerk. 

“ Capitola, sir." 

Old Hurricane pricked up his ears and raised his head, 
muttering to himself : “ Cap-it-o-la ! That’s a very odd 
name ! Can’t surely be two in the world of the same ! Cap- 
it-ola ! — if it should be my Capitola, after all ! I shouldn’t 
wonder at all ! I’ll listen and say nothing." And with this 
wise resolution, Old Hurricane again dropped his head upon 
bis hands. 

“ You say your name is Capitola — Capitola what? " inquired 
the clerk, continuing the examination. 

“ Nothing sir." 

“ Nothing ! What do you mean? ” 

“ I have no name but Capitola, sir." 

<l Who is your father? " 

“ Never had any. that I know, sir." 


THE DISCOVERY. 


39 


“Your mother? ” 

“Never had a mother either, sir, as ever I heard.” 

“Where do you live? ” 

“ About in spots in the city, sir.” 

" Oh — oh — oh ! ” groaned old Hurricane within his hands. 

“ What is your calling? ” inquired the clerk. 

“ Selling newspapers, carrying portmanteaus and packages, 
sweeping before doors, clearing off snow, blacking boots and 
so on.” 

“ Little odd jobs in general, eh? ” 

“ Yes, sir, anything that I can turn mv hand to and get to 
do.” 

“ Boy — girl, I should say — what tempted you to put yourself 
into male attire ? ” 

“ Sir?” 

“ In boy’s clothes, then ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; want, sir — and — and — danger, sir ! ” cried the 
little prisoner, putting her hands to a face crimson with blushes 
and for the first time since her arrest upon the eve of sob- 
bing. 

“ Oh — oh — oh ! ” groaned Old Hurricane from his chair. 

“Want? Danger? How is that?” continued the clerk. 

“ Your honor mightn’t like to know.” 

“ By all means ! It is, in fact, necessary that you should 
give an account of yourself,” said the clerk. 

Old Hurricane once more raised his head, opened his ears 
and gave close attention. 

One circumstance he had particularly remarked — the lan- 
guage used by the poor child during her examination was much 
superior to the slang she had previously affected, to support 
her assumed character of newsboy. 

“ Well, well — why do you pause? Go on — go on, my good 
boy — girl, I mean ! ” said the Recorder, in a tone of kind en- 
couragement. 


40 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


CHAPTER VI. 

A SHORT, SAD STORY, 

M Ah ! poverty is a weary thing! 

It burdeneth the brain, 

It maketh even the little child 
To murmur and complain.*’ 

“ It is not much I have to tell,” began Capitola. “I was 
brought up in Rag Alley and its neighborhood by an old 
woman named Nancy Grewell.” 

“ Ah ! ” ejaculated Old Hurricane. 

“ She was a washwoman, and rented one scantily furnished 
room from a poor family named Simmons.” 

" Oh ! ” cried Old Hurricane. 

“ Granny, as I called her, was very good to me, and I never 
suffered cold nor hunger until about eighteen months ago, 
when Granny took it into her head to go down to Virginia.” 

“ Umph ! ” exclaimed Old Hurricane. 

“ When Granny went away she left me a little money and 
some good clothes and told me to be sure to stay with the 
people where she left me, for that she would be back in about 
a month. But, your honor, that was the last I ever saw or 
heard of poor Granny ! She never came back again. And by 
that I know she must have died.” 

“ Ah-h-h ! ” breathed the old man, puffing fast. 

“ The first month or two after Granny left I did well enough. 
And then, when the little money was all gone, I eat with the 
Simmonses and did little odd jobs for my food. But by and by 
Mr. Simmons got out of work, and the family fell into want, 1 
and they wished me to go out and beg for them. I just 
couldn’t do that, and so they told me I should look out for 
myself.” 

“ Were there no customers of your grandmother that you 
could have applied to for employment ? ” asked the Recorder. 

“ No, sir. My Granny’s customers were mostly boarders at 
the small taverns, and they were always changing. I did ap- 
ply to two or three houses where the landladies knew Granny ; 
but they didn’t want me.” 


A SHORT, SAD STORY. 


4i 

* Oh-h-h ! ” groaned Major Warfield, in the tone of one in 
great pain. 

“ I wouldn’t have that old fellow’s conscience for a good 
deal,” whispered a spectator, “ for, as sure as shooting, that 
gal’s his unlawful child ! ” 

“ Well, go on ! What next? ” asked the clerk. 

“ Well, sir, though the Simmonses had nothing to give me 
except a crust now and then, they still let me sleep in the 
house, for the little jobs I could do for them. But at last 
Simmons he got work on the railroad away off somewhere, 
and they all moved away from the city.” 

“And you were left alone? ” 

“ Yes, sir ; I was left alone in the empty, unfurnished house. 
Still it was a shelter, and I was glad of it, and I dreaded the 
time when it would be rented by another tenant, and I should 
be turned into the street.” 

“ Oh 1 oh ! oh, Lord ! ” groaned the major. 

“ But it was never rented again, for the word went around 
that the whole row was to be pulled down, and so I thought I 
had leave to stay at least as long as the rats did ! ” continued 
Capitola, with somewhat of her natural roguish humor twink- 
ling in her dark-gray eyes. 

“ But how did you get your bread? ” inquired the Recorder. 

“ Did not get it at all, sir. Bread was too dear ! I sold 
my clothes, piece by piece, to the old Jew over the way and 
bought corn-meal and picked up trash to make a fire and 
cooked a little mush every day in an old tin can that had 
been left behind. And so I lived on for two or three weeks. 
And then when my clothes were all gone except the suit I had 
upon my back, and my meal was almost out, instead of mak- 
ing mush every day I economized and made gruel.” 

“ But, my boy — my good girl, I mean — before you became so 
destitute you should have found something or other to do,” 
said the Recorder. 

“ Sir, I was trying to get jobs every hour in the day. I’d 
have done anything honest. I went around to all the houses 
Granny knew, but they didn’t want a girl. Some of the good- 
natured landlords said if I was a boy, now, they could keep 
me opening oysters ; but as I was a girl they had no work for 
me. I even went to the offices to get papers to sell ; but they 
told me that crying papers was not proper work for a girl. I 
even went down to the ferry-boats and watched for the pas- 


42 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


sengers coming ashore, and ran and offered to carry their 
carpet-bags or portmanteaus ; but some growled at me, and 
others laughed at me, and one old gentleman asked me if I 
thought he was a North American Indian to strut up Broad- 
way with a female behind him carrying his pack. And so, 
sir, while all the ragged boys I knew could get little jobs to 
earn bread, I, because I was a girl, was not allowed to carry 
a gentleman’s parcel or black his boots, or shovel the snow / 
off a shopkeeper’s pavement, or put in coal, or do anything 
that I could do just as well as they. And so because I was 
a girl there seemed to be nothing but starvation or beggary 
before me ! ” 

“ Oh, Lord ! oh, Lord ! that such things should be ! ” cried 
Old Hurricane. 

“ That was bad, sir ; but there was worse behind ! There 
came a day when my meal, even the last dust of it, was gone. 
Then I kept life in me by drinking water and by sleeping all 
I could. At first I could not sleep for the gnawing — gnawing 
— in my stomach ; but afterwards I slept deeply, from exhaus- 
tion, and then I’d dream of feasts and the richest sort of food, 
and of eating such quantities ; and, really, sir, I seemed to taste 
it and enjoy it and get the good of it, almost as much as if it 
was all true ! One morning after such a dream I was waked 
up by a great noise outside. I staggered upon my feet and 
crept to the window, and there, sir, were the workmen all out- 
side a-pulling down the house over my head ! ” 

“ Good Heaven ! ” ejaculated Old Hurricane, who seemed 
to constitute himself the chorus of this drama. 

“ Sir, they didn’t know that I or any one was in the empty 
house ! Fright gave me strength to run down-stairs and run 
out. Then I stopped. Oh ! I stopped and looked up and 
down the street. What should I do? The last shelter was 
gone away from me — the house where I had lived so many 
years, and that seemed like a friend to me, was falling before 
my eyes ! I thought I’d just go and pitch myself into the 
river and end it all ! ” 

“That was a very wicked thought,” said the Recorder. 

“Yes, sir, I know it was, and, besides, I was dreadfully 
afraid of being suffocated in the dirty water around the wharf !” 
said Capitola, with a sparkle of that irrepressible humor that 
effervesced even through all her trouble. “ Well, sir, the 
hand that feeds young ravens kept me from dying that day. I 


A SHORT, SAD STORY. 


43 


found a five-cent piece in the street and resolved not to 
smother myself in the river mud as long as it lasted. So I 
bought a muffin, ate it, and went down to the wharf to look 
for a job. I looked all day but found none, and when night 
came I went into a lumber yard and hid myself behind a pile 
of planks that kept the wind off me, and I went to sleep and 
dreamed a beautiful dream of living in a handsome house, 
with friends all around me and everything good to eat and 
drink and wear ! ” 

“ Poor, poor child ; but your dream may come true yet ! ” 
muttered Old Hurricane to himself. 

“ Well, your honor, next day I spent another penny out of 
my half-dime and looked in vain for work all day and slept at 
night in a broken-down omnibus that had happened to be 
left on the stand. And so, not to tire your patience, a whole 
week passed away. I lived on my half-dime, spending a 
penny a day for a muffin, until the last penny was gone, and 
sleeping at night wherever I could — sometimes under the front 
stoop of a house, sometimes in an old broken carriage and 
sometimes behind a pile of boxes on the sidewalk.” 

“ That was a dreadful exposure for a young girl,” said the 
Recorder. 

A burning blush flamed up over the young creature’s cheek 
as she answered : 

“ Yes, sir, that was the worst of all ; that finally drove me to 
putting on boy’s clothes.” 

“ Let us hear all about it.” 

“ Oh, sir, I can’t — I — How can I? Well, being always 
exposed, sleeping outdoors, I was often in danger from bad 
boys and bad men,” said Capitola, and, dropping her head 
upon her breast and covering her crimson cheeks with her 
^ands, for the first time she burst into tears and sobbed aloud. 

“Come, come, my little man — my good little woman, I 
mean ! don’t take it so to heart. You couldn’t help it ! ” said 
Old Hurricane, with raindrops glittering even in his own 
stormy eyes. 

Capitola looked up, with her whole countenance flashing 
with spirit, and exclaimed : “ Oh ! but I took care of myself, 

sir ! I did, indeed, your honor ! You mustn’t, either you or 
die old gentleman, dare to think but what I did ! ” 

“ Oh, of course ! of course ! ” said a bystander, laughing. 

Old Hurricane sprang up, bringing his feet down upon the 


44 THE HIDDEN HAND. 

floor with a resound that made the great hall ring again, ex- 
claiming : 

“ What do you mean by * of course ! of course ! * you villain ? 
Demmy ! I'll swear she took care of herself, you varlet ; and 
if any man dares to hint otherwise, I’ll ram his falsehood down 
his throat with the point of my walking stick and make 
him swallow both ! ” 

“ Order ! order ! ” said the clerk. 

Old Hurricane immediately wheeled to the right about, 
faced and saluted the bench in military fashion, and then said : 

“ Yes, sir ! I’ll regard order ! but in the meanwhile, if the 
court does not protect this child from insult I must, order or 
no order ! ” and with that the old gentleman once more sub- 
sided into his seat. 

“ Governor, don’t you be so noisy 1 You’ll get yourself 
stopped up into a jug next ! Why, you remind me of an up- 
roarious old fellow poor Granny used to talk about, that they 
called Old Hurricane, because he was so stormy ! ” whispered 
Capitola, turning toward him. 

“ Humph ! she’s heard of me, then 1 ” muttered the old 
gentleman to himself. 

“ Well, sir — I mean, miss — go on ! ” said the clerk, ad- 
dressing Capitola. 

“ Yes, sir. Well, your honor, at the end of five days, being 
a certain Thursday morning, when I couldn’t get a job of 
work for love nor money, when my last penny was spent for 
my last roll, and my last roll was eaten up, and I was 
dreading the gnawing hunger by day and the horrid perils of 
the night, I thought to myself if I were only a boy I might 
carry packages and shovel in coal, and do lots of jobs by day, 
and sleep without terror by night. And then I felt bitter 
against Fate for not making me a boy. And so, thinking and 
thinking and thinking I wandered on until I found myself in 
Rag Alley, where I used to live, standing right between the 
pile of broken bricks, plaster and lumber that used to be my 
home, and the old Jew’s shop where I sold my clothes for 
meal. And then all of a sudden a bright thought struck me ? 
and I made up my mind to be a boy ! ” 

i{ Made up your mind to be a boy? ” 

“ Yes, sir, for it was so easy ! I wondered how I came to 
be so stupid as not to have thought of it before. I just ran 
across to the old Jew’s shop and offered to swap my suit of 


A SHORT, SAD STORY. 


45 


girl’s clothes, that was good, though dirty, for any, even the 
raggedest suit of boy’s clothes he had, whether they’d fit me 
or not, so they would only stay on me. The old fellow put his 
finger to his nose as if he thought I’d been stealing and 
wanted to dodge the police. So he took down an old, not 
very ragged, suit that he said would fit me, and opened a 
door and told me to go in his daughter’s room and put ’em on. 

“ Well, not to tire your honors, I went into that little back 
parlor a girl and I came out a boy, with a suit of pants and 
jacket, with my hair cut short and a cap on my head ! The 
Jew gave me a penny roll and a sixpence for my black ring- 
lets.” 

“ All seemed grist that came to his mill ! ” said Old 
Huriicane. 

“Yes, Governor, he w\as a dealer in general. Well, the 
first thing I did was to hire myself to the Jew, at a sixpence 
a day and find myself, to shovel in his coal. That didn’t 
take me but a day. So at night the Jew paid me, and I slept 
in peace behind a stack of boxes. Next morning I was up 
before the sun and down to the office of the little penny paper, 
the * Morning Star.’ I bought two dozen of ’em and ran as 
fast as I could to the ferry-boats to sell to the early passengers. 
Well, sir, in an hour’s time I had sold out and pocketed just 
two shillings, and felt myself on the highroad to fortune ! ” 

“ And so that was the way by which you came to put your- 
self in male attire? ” 

“Yes, sir, and the only thing that made me feel sorry was to 
see what a fool I had been not to turn to a boy before, when it 
was so easy ! And from that day forth I was happy and 
prosperous ! I found plenty to do ! I carried carpet-bags, 
held horses, put in coal, cleaned sidewalks, blacked gentlemen’s 
boots and did everything an honest lad could turn his hand to. 
And so for more’n a year I was as happy as a king, and should 
have kept on so, only I forgot and let my hair grow, and instead 
of cutting it off, just tucked it up under my cap ; and so this 
morning on the ferry-boat, in a high breeze, the wind blowed 
off my cap and the policeman blowed on me ! ” 

“’Twasn’t altogether her long hair, your honor, for I had 
seen her before, having known her when she lived with old 
Mrs. Grewell in Rag Alley,” interrupted the officer. 

“You may sit down, my child,” said the Recorder, in a 
tone of encouragement. 


46 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


CHAPTER VII. 

METAMORPHOSIS OF THE NEWSBOY. 

With caution judge of probability, 

Things deemed unlikely, e’en impossible, 

Experience oft hath proven to be true. 

— Shakespeare. 

“What shall we do with her?” inquired the Recorder 
sotto voce, of a brother magistrate who appeared to be asso- 
ciated with him on the bench. 

“ Send her to the Refuge,” replied the other, in the same 
tone. 

“What are they consulting about?” asked Old Hurricane, 
whose ears were not of the best. 

“ They are talking of sending her to the Refuge,” answered 
a bystander. 

“ Refuge ? Is there a refuge for destitute children in New 
York ? Then Babylon is not so bad as I thought it. What is 
this Refuge ? ” 

“ It is a prison where juvenile delinquents are trained to 
habits of ” 

“A prison ! Send her to a prison ? Never! ” burst forth 
Old Hurricane, rising and marching up to the Recorder ; he 
stood, hat in haud, before him and said : 

“ Your honor, if a proper legal guardian appears to claim 
this young person and holds himself in all respects responsible 
for her, may she not be at once delivered into his hands ? ” 

“ Assuredly,” answered the magistrate, with the manner of 
one glad to be rid of the charge. 

“ Then, sir, I, Ira Warfield, of Hurricane Hall, in Virginia, 
present myself as the guardian of this girl, Capitola Black, 
whom I claim as my ward. And I will enter into a recogni- 
zance for any sum to appear and prove my right if it should be 
disputed. For my personal responsibility, sir, I refer you to 
the proprietors of the Astor, who have known me many years.” 

“ It is not necessary, Major Warfield ; we assume the fact 
of your responsibility and deliver up the young girl to your 
charge.” 


METAMORPHOSIS OF THE NEWSBOY. 47 

“ I thank you, sir,” said Old Hurricane, bowing low. Then, 
hurrying across the room where sat the reporters for the press, 
he said : 

“ Gentlemen, I have a favor to <sk of you ; it is that you 
will altogether drop this case of the boy in girl’s clothes — I 
mean the girl in girl’s clothes — I declare I don’t know what 
I mean ; nor I shan’t, neither, until I see the creature in its 
proper dress, but this I wish to request of you, gentlemen, that 
you will drop that item from your report, or if you must men- 
tion it, treat it with delicacy, as the good name of a young 
lady is involved.” 

The reporters, with sidelong glances, winks and smiles, gave 
him the required promise, and Old Hurricane returned to the 
side of his prot£g£e. 

“Capitola, are you willing to go with me ? ” 

“ Jolly willing, governor.” 

“ Then come along ; my cab is waiting,” said Old Hurri- 
cane, and, bowing to the court, he took the hand of his charge 
and led her forth, amid the ill-suppressed jibes of the 
crowd. 

“ There’s a hoary-headed old sinner ! ” said one. 

“ She’s as like him as two peas,” quoth another. 

“ Wonder if there’s any more belonging to him of the same 
sort ? ” inquired a third. 

Leaving all the sarcasm behind him, Old Hurricane handed 
his protegee into the cab, took the seat beside her and gave 
orders to be driven out toward Harlem. 

As soon as they were seated in the cab the old man turned 
to his charge and said : 

“ Capitola, I shall have to trust to your girl’s wit to get 
yourself into your proper clothes again without exciting further 
notice.” 

“Yes, governor.” 

“ My boy— girl, I mean — I am not the governor of Virginia, 
though if every one had his rights I don’t know but I should 
t*e. However, I am only Major Warfield,” said the old man, 
naively, for he had not the most distant idea that the title be- 
stowed on him by Capitola was a mere remnant of her news- 
boys “slang.” 

“ Now, my lad — pshaw ! my lass, I mean — how shall we get 
you metamorphosed again?” 

“ I know, gov — major, I mean. There is a shop of ready* 


48 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


made clothing at the Needle Woman’s Aid, corner of the 
next square. I can get out there and .buy a full suit.” 

“ Very well. Stop at the next corner, driver,” called Old 
Hurricane. 

The next minute the cab drew up before a warehouse of 
ready-made garments. 

Old Hurricane jumped out, and, leading his charge, entered 
the shop. 

Luckily, there was behind the counter only one person — a 
staid, elderly, kind-looking woman. 

“ Here, madam,” said Old Hurricane, stooping confiden- 
tially to her ear, “ I am in a little embarrassment that I hope 
you will be willing to help me out of for a consideration. I 
came to New York in pursuit of my ward — this young girl 
here — whom I found in boy’s clothes. I now wish to restore 
her to her proper dress, before presenting her to my friends, 
of course. Therefore, I wish you to furnish her with a half 
dozen complete suits of female attire, of the very best you 
have that will fit her. And also to give her the use of a room 
and of your own aid in changing her dress. I will pay you 
liberally.” 

Half suspicious and half scandalized, the worthy woman 
gazed with scrutiny first into the face of the guardian and then 
into that of the ward ; but finding in the extreme youth of the 
one and the advanced age of the other, and in the honest ex- 
pression of both, something to allay her fears, if not to inspire 
her confidence, she said : 

“ Very well, sir. Come after me, young gentleman — young 
lady, I should say.” And, calling a boy to mind the shop, she 
conducted Capitola to an inner apartment. 

Old Hurricane went out and dismissed his cab. When it 
was entirely out of sight he hailed another that was passing by 
empty, and engaged it to take himself and a young lady to the 
Washington House. 

When he re-entered the shop he found the shop woman and 
Capitola returned and waiting for him. 

Capitola was indeed transfigured. Her bright black hair, 
parted in the middle, fell in ringlets each side her blushing 
cheeks ; her dark-gray eyes were cast down in modesty at the 
very same instant that her ripe red lips were puckered up 
with mischief. She was well and properly attired in a gray 
silk dress, crimson merino shawl and a black velvet bonnet. 


METAMORPHOSIS OF THE NEWSBOY. 49 

The other clothing that had been purchased was done up in 
packages and put into the cab. 

And after paying the shop woman handsomely, Old Hurri- 
cane took the hand of his ward, handed her into the cab and 
gave the order : 

" To the Washington House.” 

The ride was performed in silence. 

Capitola sat deeply blushing at the recollection of her male 
attire, and profoundly cogitating as to what could be the re- 
lationship between herself and the gray old man whose claim 
the Recorder had so promptly admitted. There seemed but 
one way of accounting for the great interest he took in her 
fate. Capitola came to the conclusion that the grim old lion 
before her was no more nor less than — her own father ! for 
alas ! poor Cap had been too long tossed about New York not 
to know more of life than at her age she should have known. 
She had indeed the innocence of youth, but not its simplicity. 

Old Hurricane, on his part, sat with his thick cane grasped 
in his two knobby hands, standing between his knees, his 
grizzled chin resting upon it and his eyes cast down as in deep 
thought. 

And so in silence they reached the Washington House. 

Major Warfield then conducted his ward into the ladies* 
parlor, and went and entered his own and her name upon the 
books as “ Major Warfield and his ward, Miss Black,” for 
whom he engaged two bedrooms and a private parlor. 

Then, leaving Capitola to be shown to her apartment by a 
chambermaid, he went out and ordered her luggage up to her 
room and dismissed the cab. 

Next he walked to the Astor House, paid his bill, collected 
his baggage, took another carriage and drove back to the 
Washington Hotel. 

All this trouble Old Hurricane took to break the links of his 
action and prevent scandal. This filled up a long forenoon. 

He dined alone with his ward in their private parlor. 

Such a dinner poor Cap had never even smelled before. How 
immensely she enjoyed it, with all its surroundings — the com- 
fortable room, the glowing fire, the clean table, the rich food, 
the obsequious attendance, her own genteel and becoming 
dress, the company of a highly respectable guardian — all, all 
so different from anything she had ever been accustomed to, 
and so highly appreciated. 


50 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


How happy she felt ! How much happier from the con- 
trast of her previous wretchedness, to be suddenly freed from 
want, toil, fear and all the evils of destitute orphanage, and to 
find herself blessed with wealth, leisure and safety, under the 
care of a rich, good and kind father (or as such Capitola con- 
tinued to believe her guardian to be). It was an incredible 
thing ! It was like a fairy tale ! 

Something of what was passing in her mind was perceived 
by Old Hurricane, who frequently burst into uproarious fits oi 
laughter as he watched her. 

At last, when the dinner and the dessert were removed, and 
the nuts, raisins and wine placed upon the table, and the 
waiters had retired from the room and left them alone, sitting 
one on each side of the fire, with the table and its luxuries 
between them, Major Warfield suddenly looked up and 
asked : 

“ Capitola, whom do you think that I am ? ” 

“ Old Hurricane, to be sure. I knew you from Granny’s 
description, the moment you broke out so in the police office,” 
answered Cap. 

“ Humph ! Yes, you’re right ; and it was your Granny that 
bequeathed you to me, Capitola.” 

“ Then she is really dead ? ” 

“Yes. There — don’t cry about her. She was very old, and 
she died happy. Now, Capitola, if you please me I mean to 
adopt you as my own daughter.” 

“Yes, father.” 

“No, no; you needn’t call me father, you know, because 
it isn’t true. Call me uncle, uncle, uncle.” 

“Is that true, sir? ” asked Cap, demurely. 

“ No, no, no ; but it will do, it will do. Now, Cap, how 
much do you know? Anything? Ignorant as a horse, I am 
afraid.” 

“ Yes, sir ; even as a colt.” 

“ Can you read at all? ” 

“Yes, sir; I learned to read at Sunday-school.” 

“ Cast accounts and write?” 

“ I can keep your books at a pinch, sir.” 

“Humph ! Who taught you these accomplishments? ” 

“ Herbert Greyson, sir.” 

“ Herbert Greyson ! I’ve heard that name before ; here it 
is again. Who is that Herbert Greyson? ” 


METAMORPHOSIS OF THE NEWSBOY. 51 

“ He’s second mate on the Susan, sir, that is expected io 
every day.” 

“ Umph ! uraph ! Take a glass of wine, Capitola.” 

“ No, sir ; I never touch a single drop.” 

“ Why ? Why ? Good wine after dinner, my child, is a 
good thing, let me tell you.” 

“ Ah, sir, my life has shown me too much misery that, has 
come of drinking wine.” 

“Well, well, as you please. Why, where has the girl run 
off to ! ” exclaimed the old man, breaking off, and looking 
with amazement at Capitola, who had suddenly started up and 
rushed out of the room. 

In an instant she rushed in again, exclaiming : 

“ Oh, he’s come ! he’s come ! I heard his voice ! ” 

“Whose come, you madcap? ” inquired the old man. 

“ Oh, Herbert Greyson ! Herbert Greyson ! His ship is 
in, and he has come here ! He always comes here — most of 
the sea officers do,” exclaimed Cap, dancing around until all 
her black ringlets flew up and down. Then suddenly pausing, 
she came quietly to his side and said, solemnly : 

“ Uncle, Herbert has been at sea three years ; he knows 
nothing of my past misery and destitution, nor of my eve 1, 
wearing boy’s clothes. Uncle, please don’t tell him, especially 
of the boy’s clothes.” And in the earnestness of her appeal 
Capitola clasped her hands and raised her eyes to the old 
man’s face. How soft those gray eyes looked when praying ! 
But for all that, the very spirit of mischief still lurked about 
the corners of the plump, arched lips. 

“ Of course I shall tell no one ! I am not so proud of 
your masquerading as to publish it. And as for this young 
fellow, I shall probably never see him ! ” exclaimed Old Hur- 
ricane. 


S 2 


THE HIDDEN HAND, 


CHAPTER VIII. 

HERBERT GREYSON. 

A kind, true heart, a spirit high, 

That cannot fear and will not bow. 

Is flashing in his manly eye 
And stamped upon his brow. 

— Halleck. 

In a few minutes Capitola came bounding up the stairs 
again, exclaiming joyously : 

“ Here he is, uncle ! Here is Herbert Greyson ! Come 
along, Herbert ; you must come in and see my new uncle ! ” 
And she broke into the room, dragging before her astonished 
guardian a handsome, dark-eyed young sailor, who bowed and 
then stood blushing at his enforced intrusion. 

“ I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, “ for bursting in upon 
you in this way; but ” 

“ I dragged him here willy-nilly,” said Capitola. 

“ Still, if I had had time to think I should not have in- 
truded.” 

“ Oh, say no more, sir. You are heartily welcome,” ex- 
claimed the old man, thrusting out his rugged hand and seiz- 
ing the bronzed one of the youth. “ Sit down, sir, sit down. 
Good Lord, how like ! ” he added, mentally. 

Then, seeing the young sailor still standing, blushing and 
hesitating, he struck his cane upon the floor and roared out : 

“ Demmy, sit down, sir ! When Ira Warfield says sit 
down, he means sit down ! ” 

“Ira Warfield !” exclaimed the young man, starting back 
in astonishment — one might almost say in consternation. 

“ Ay, sir ; Ira Warfield ! That’s my name. Never heard 
any ill of it, did you? ” 

The young man did not answer, but continued gazing in 
amazement upon the speaker. 

“ Nor any good of it either, perhaps — eh, uncle? ” archly 
put in Capitola. 

“ Silence, you monkey ! Well, young man, well, what is 
the meaning of all this? ” exclaimed old Hurricane, impa- 
tiently. 


HERBERT GREYSON. 


53 

“ Oh, your pardon, sir ; this was sudden. But you must 
know I had once a relative of that name — an uncle.” 

“And have still, Herbert; and have still, lad. Come, 
come, boy; I am not sentimental, nor romantic, nor melo- 
dramatic, nor nothing of that sort. I don’t know how to strike 
an attitude and exclaim, * Come to my bosom, sole remaining 
offspring of a dear departed sister ’ or any of the like stage 
playing. But I tell you, lad, that I like your looks ; and I 
like what I have heard of you from this girl, and another old 
woman, now dead ; and so — But sit down, sit down ! demmy, 
sir, sit down, and we’ll talk over the walnuts and the wine. 
Capitola, take your seat, too,” ordered the old man, throwing 
himself into his chair. Herbert also drew his chair up. 

Capitola resumed her seat, saying to herself : 

“ Well, well, I am determined not to be surprised at any- 
thing that happens, being perfectly clear in my own mind that 
this is all nothing but a dream. But how pleasant it is to 
dream that I have found a rr.h uncle and he has found a 
nephew, and that nephew is Herbert Greyson ! I do believe 
that I had rather die in my sleep than wake from this dream ! ” 

“ Herbert,” said old Hurricane, as soon as they were gath- 
ered around the table — “ Herbert, this is my ward, Miss 
Black, the daughter of a deceased friend. Capitola, this is the 
only son of my departed sister.” 

“ Hem-m-m ! We have had the pleasure of being acquainted 
with each other before,” said Cap, pinching up her lip and 
looking demure. 

“ But not of really knowing who ‘ each other ’ was, you 
monkey. Herbert, fill your glass. Here’s to our better ac- 
quaintance.” 

“ I thank you, sir. I never touch wine,” said the young man. 

“ Never touch wine ! Here’s another ; here’s a young 
prig ! I don’t believe you— yes, I do, too ! Demmy, sir, if 
you never touch wine it’s because you prefer brandy \ 
Waiter ! ” 

“ I thank you, sir. Order no brandy for me. If I never 
use intoxicating liquors it is because I gave a promise to that 
effect to my dying mother.” 

“ Say no more — say no more, lad. Drink water, if you 
like. It won’t hurt you ! ” exclaimed the old man, filling and 
quaffing a glass of champagne. Then he said : 

“ I quarreled with your mother, Herbert, for marryfng a 


54 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


man that I hated — yes, hated, Herbert, for he differed with 
me about the tariff and — the Trinity ! Oh, how I hated him, 
boy, until he died ! And then I wondered in my soul, as I 
wonder even now, how I ever could have been so infuriated 
against a poor fellow now cold in his grave, as I shall be in 
time. I wrote to my sister and expressed my feelings ; but, 
somehow or other, Herbert, we never came to a right under- 
standing again. She answered my letter affectionately enough, 
but she refused to accept a home for herself and child under 
my roof, saying that she thanked me for my offer, but that the 
house which had been closed against her husband ought never 
to become the refuge of his widow. After that we never cor- 
responded, and I have no doubt, Herbert, that she, naturally 
enough, taught you to dislike me.” 

“ Not so, sir ; indeed, you wrong her. She might have 
been loyal to my father’s memory without being resentful to- 
ward you. She said that you had a noble nature, but it was 
often obscured by violent passions. On her dead-bed she 
bade me, should I ever meet you, to say that she repented her 
refusal of your offered kindness.” 

“ And consented that it should be transferred to her orphan 
boy?” added Old Hurricane, with the tears like raindrops in 
his stormy eyes. 

“ No, sir, she said not so.” 

“ But yet she would not have disapproved a service offered 
to her son.” 

“ Uncle — since you permit me to call you so — I want noth- 
ing. I have a good berth in the Susan and a kind friend in 
her captain.” 

“ You have all your dear mother’s pride, Herbert.” 

“ And all his uncle’s ! ” put in Cap. 

“ Hush, Magpie ! But is the merchant service agreeable to 
you, Herbert? ” 

“ Not perfectly, sir; but one must be content.” 

“ Demmy, sir, my sister’s son need not be content unless 
he has a mind to ! And if you prefer the navy ” 

“ No, sir. I like the navy even less than the merchant 
service.” 

“ Then what would suit you, lad ? Come, you have betrayed 
the fact that you are not altogether satisfied.” 

“ On the contrary, sir, I told you distinctly that I really 
wanted nothing, and that I must be satisfied.” 


HERBERT GREYSON. 


55 

“ And I say, demmy, sir ! you sha’n’t be satisfied unless 
you like to ! Come, if you don’t like the navy, what do you 
say to the army, eh? ” 

“ It is a proud, aspiring profession, sir/’ said the young 
man, as his face lighted up with enthusiasm. 

“ Then, demmy, if you like the army, sir, you shall enter it ! 
Yes, sir ! Demmy, the administration, confound them, has 
not done me justice, but they’ll scarcely dare to refuse to send 
my nephew to West Point when I demand it.” 

“ To West Point ! ” exclaimed Herbert, in delight. 

“ Ay, youngster, to West Point. I shall see to it when I 
pass through Washington on my way to Virginia. We start in 
the early train to-morrow morning. In the meantime, young 
man, you take leave of your captain, pack up your traps and 
join us. You must go with me and make Hurricane Hall 
your home until you go to West Point.” 

“ Oh, what a capital old governor our uncle is ! ” exclaimed 
Cap, jumping up and clapping her hands. 

“ Sir, indeed you overwhelm me with this most unexpected 
kindness ! I do not know as yet how much of it I ought to 
accept. But accident will make me, whether or no, your trav- 
eling companion for a great part of the way, as I also start for 
Virginia to-morrow, to visit dear friends there, whose house 
was always my mother’s home and mine, and who, since my 
bereavement, have been to me like a dear mother and brother. 
I have not seen them for years, and before I go anywhere else, 
even to your kind roof, I must go there,” said Herbert, 
gravely. 

“ And who are those dear friends of yours, Hebert, and 
where do they live ? If I can serve them they shall be rewarded 
for their kindness unto you, my boy.” 

“Oh, sir, yes; you can indeed serve them. They are a 
poor widow and her only son. She has seen better days, but 
now takes in sewing to support herself and boy. When my 
mother was living, during the last years of her life, when she 
also was a poor widow with an only son, they joined their 
slender means and took a house and lived together. When 
my mother died, leaving me a boy of ten years old, this poor 
woman still sheltered and worked for me as for her own son 
until, ashamed of being a burden to her, I ran away and went 
to sea.” 

“ Noble woman ! I will make her fortune! ” exclaimed 


56 THE HIDDEN HAND. 

Old Hurricane, jumping up and walking up and down the 
floor. 

“ Oh, do, sir ! Oh, do, dear uncle ! 1 don’t wish you to 

expend either money or influence upon my fortunes ; but, oh, 
do educate Traverse ! He is such a gifted lad — so intel- 
lectual ! Even his Sunday-school teacher says that he is sure 
to work his way to distinction, although now he is altogether 
dependent on his Sunday-school for hi'* learning Oh, sir, if 
you would only educate the son he’d make a fortune for his 
mother.” 

“ Generous boy, to plead for your friends rather than for 
yourself. But I am strong enough, thank God, to help you all. 
You shall go to West Point. Your friend shall go to school 
and then to college,” said Old Hurricane, with a burst of 
honest enthusiasm. 

“ And where shall I go, sir ? n inquired Cap. 

“ To the insane asylum, you imp ! ” exclaimed the old man ; 
then, turning to Herbert, he continued : “ Yes, lad ; I will do 
as I say ; and as for the poor but noble-hearted widow ” 

“ You’ll marry her yourself, as a reward ; won’t you, uncle? ” 
asked the incorrigible Cap. 

“ Perhaps I will, you monkey, if it is only to bring some- 
body home to keep you in order,” said Old Hurricane ; then, 
turning again to Herbert, he resumed : “ As to the widow, 
Herbert, I will place her above want.” 

“ Over my head,” cried Cap. 

“ And now, Herbert, I will trouble you to ring for coffee, 
and after we have had that I think we had better separate and 
prepare for our journey to-morrow.” 

Herbert obeyed, and, after the required refreshment had 
been served and partaken of, the little circle broke up for the 
evening and soon after retired to rest. 

Early the next morning, after a hasty breakfast, the three 
took their seats in the express train for Washington, where 
they arrived upon the evening of the same day. They put up 
for the night at Brown’s, and the next day Major Warfield, 
leaving his party at their hotel, called upon the President, the 
Secretary of the Navy and other high official dignitaries, and 
put affairs in such a train that he had little doubt of the ulti- 
mate appointment of his nephew to a cadetship at West 
Point. 

The same evening, wishing to avoid the stage route over 


HERBERT GREYSON. 


5 7 

the mountains, he took, with his party, the night boat for 
Richmond, where, in due time, they arrived, and whence they 
took the valley line of coaches that passed through Tip-Top, 
which they reached upon the morning of the fourth day of 
their long jonrney. Here they found Major Warfield’s carriage 
waiting for him, and here they were to separate — Major War- 
field and Capitola to turn off to Hurricane Hall and Herbert 
Greyson to keep on the route to the town of Staunton. 

It was as the three sat in the parlor of the little hotel where 
the stage stopped to change horses that their adieus were 
made. 

“ Remember, Herbert, that I am willing to go to the utmost 
extent of my power to benefit the good widow and her son 
who were so kind to my nephew in his need. Remember that 
I hold it a sacred debt that I owe them. Tell them so. And 
mind, Herbert, I shall expect you back in a week at furthest.” 

“ I shall be punctual, sir. God bless you, my dear uncle. 
You have made me very happy in being the bearer of such 
glad tidings to the widow and the fatherless. And now I hear 
the horn blowing — good-by, uncle ; good-by, Capitola. I am 
going to carry them great joy — such great joy, uncle, as you, 
who have everything you want, can scarcely imagine.” And, 
shaking hands heartily with his companions, Herbert ran 
through the door and jumped aboard the coach just as the 
impatient driver was about to leave him behind. 

As soon as the coach had rolled out of sight Major Warfield 
handed Capitola into his carriage that had long been waittng, 
and took the seat by her side, much to the scandalization of 
Wool, who muttered to his horses : 

“ There, I told you so ! I said how he’d go and bring home 
a young wife, and behold he’s gone and done it ! ” 

“ Uncle,” said Capitola as the carriage rolled lazily along — 
“ uncle, do you know you never once asked Herbert the name 
of the widow you are going to befriend, and that he never 
told you? ” 

“ By George, that is true ! How strange ! Yet I did not 
seem to miss the name. How did it ever happen, Capitola? 
Did he omit it on purpose, do you think? ” 

“ Why, no, uncle. He, boylike, always spoke of them as 
* Traverse ’ and * Traverse’s mother ’ ; and you, like yourself, 
called her nothing but the ‘ poor widow ’ and the * struggling 
mother ’ and the * noble woman/ and so on, and her son as 


THE HIDDEN HAND, 


58 

the ‘boy/ the 'youth, 1 'young Traverse/ Herbert's 'friend,* 
etc. I, for my part, had some curiosity to see whether you 
and Herbert would go on talking of them forever without hav- 
ing to use their surnames. And, behold, he even went away 
without naming them ! ” 

" By George ! and so he did. It was the strangest over- 
sight. But I’ll write as soon as I get home and ask him.” 

" No, uncle ; just for the fun of the thing, wait until he 
comes back, and see how long it will be and how much he will 
talk of them without mentioning their names.” 

" Ha, ha, ha ! So I will, Cap, so 1 will ! Besides what- 
ever their names are, it’s nothing to me. ' A rose by any 
other name would smell as sweet,’ you know. And if she is 
' Mrs. Tagfoot Waddle ’ I shall still think so good a woman 
exalted as a Montmorencie. Mind there, Wool ; this road is 
getting rough.” 

" Over it now, marster,” said Wool, after a few heavy jolts. 
"Over it now, missus; and de rest of de way is perfectly 
delightful.” 

Cap looked out of the window and saw before her a beauti- 
ful piece of scenery — first, just below them, the wild mountain 
stream of the Demon’s Run, and beyond it the wild dell 
dented into the side of the mountain, like the deep print of an 
enormous horse’s hoof, in the midst of which, gleaming redly 
among its richly- tinted autumn woods, stood Hurricane Hall. 


CHAPTER IX. 

MARAH ROCKE. 

** There sits upon her matron face 
A tender and a thoughtful grace, 

Though very still, — for great distress 
Hath left this patient mournfulness.” 

Beside an old rocky road leading from the town of Staun- 
ton out to the forest-crowned hills beyond, stood alone a little, 
gray stone cottage, in the midst of a garden inclosed by a low, 
moldering stone wall. A few gnarled and twisted fruit trees, 
long past bearing, stood around the house that their leafless 
branches could not be said to shade. A little wooden gate 
led up an old paved walk to the front door, on each side of 
which were large windows. 


MARAH ROCKE. 


59 


In this poor cottage, remote from other neighbors, dwelt the 
friends of Herbert Greyson — the widow Rocke and her son 
Traverse. 

No one knew who she was, or whence or why she came. 
Some fifteen years before she had appeared in town, clothed 
in rusty mourning and accompanied by a boy of about two 
(years of age. She had rented that cottage, furnished it poorly 
'and had settled there, supporting herself and child by needle- 
work. 

At the time that Doctor Greyson died and his widow and 
son were left perfectly destitute, and it became necessary for 
Mrs. Greyson to look out for a humble lodging where she 
could find the united advantages of cheapness, cleanliness and 
pure air, she was providentially led to inquire at the cottage 
of the widow Rocke, whom she found only too glad to in- 
crease her meager income by letting half her little house to 
such unexceptionable tenants as the widow Greyson and her son. 

And thus commenced between the two poor young women 
and the two boys an acquaintance that ripened into friend- 
ship, and thence into that devoted love so seldom seen in this 
world. 

Their households became united. One fire, one candle and 
one table served the little family, and thus considerable ex- 
pense was saved as well as much social comfort gained. And 
when the lads grew too old to sleep with their mothers, one 
bed held the two boys and the other accommodated the two 
women. And, despite toil, want, care — the sorrow for the 
dead and the neglect of the living — this was a loving, con- 
tented and cheerful little household. How much of their 
private history these women might have confided to each other 
was not known, but it was certain that they continued fast 
friends up to the time of the death of Mrs. Greyson, after 
hvhich the widow Rocke assumed a double burden, and be- 
came a second mother to the orphan boy, until Herbert him- 
self, ashamed of taxing her small means, ran away, as he had 
said, and went to sea. 

Every year had Herbert written to his kind foster mother 
and his dear brother, as he called Traverse. And at the end 
of every prosperous voyage, when he had a little money, he 
had sent them funds ; but not always did these letters or re- 
mittances reach the widow’s cottage, and long seasons of in- 
tense anxiety would be suffered by her for the fate of her 


6o 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


sailor boy, as she always called Herbert. Only three times in 
all these years had Herbert found time and means to come 
down and see them, and that was long ago. It was many 
months over two years since they had even received a letter 
from him. And now the poor widow and her son were almost 
tempted to think that their sailor boy had quite forsaken 
them. 

It is near the close of a late autumnal evening that I shall 
introduce you, reader, into the interior of the widow’s cottage. 

You enter by the little wooden gate, pass up the moldering 
paved walk, between the old, leafless lilac bushes, and pass 
through the front door right into a large, clean but poor-look- 
jng sitting-room and kitchen. 

Everything was old, though neatly and comfortably ar- 
ranged about this room. A faded home-made carpet covered 
the floor, a threadbare crimson curtain hung before the win- 
dow, a rickety walnut table, dark with age, sat under the 
window against the wall ; old walnut chairs were placed each 
side of it ; old plated candlesticks, with the silver all worn 
off, graced the mantelpiece ; a good fire — a cheap comfort in 
that well-wooded country — blazed upon the hearth ; on the 
right side of the fireplace a few shelves contained some well- 
worn books, a flute, a few minerals and other little treasures 
belonging to Traverse ; on the left hand there was a dresser 
containing the little delfware, tea service and plates and dishes 
of the small family. 

Before the fire, with her knitting in her hand, sat Marah 
Rocke, watching the kettle as it hung singing over the blaze 
and the oven of biscuits that sat baking upon the hearth. 

Marah Rocke was at this time about thirty-five years of 
age, and of a singularly refined and delicate aspect for one of 
her supposed rank ; her little form, slight and flexible as that 
of a young girl, was clothed in a poor but neat black dress, 
relieved by a pure- white collar around her throat ; her jet- 
black hair was parted plainly over her “ low, sweet brow,” 
brought down each side her thin cheeks and gathered into a 
bunch at the back of her shapely little head ; her face was 
oval, with regular features and pale olive complexion ; serious 
lips, closed in pensive thought, and soft, dark-brown eyes, full 
of tender affection and sorrowful memories, and too often 
cast down in meditation beneath the heavy shadows of their 
long, thick eyelashes, completed the melancholy beauty of a 


MARAH ROCKE. 61 

countenance not often seen among the hard-working children 
of toil. 

Marah Rocke was a very hard-working woman, sewing all 
day long and knitting through the twilight, and then again 
resuming her needle by candle-light and sewing until midnight 
— and yet Marah Rocke made but a poor and precarious liv- 
ing for herself and son. Needlework, so ill-paid in large 
cities, is even worse paid in the country towns, and, though 
the cottage hearth was never cold, the widow’s meals were 
often scant. Lately her son, Traverse, who occasionally earned 
a trifle of money by doing “ with all his might whatever his 
hand could find to do,” had been engaged by a grocer in the 
town to deliver his goods to his customers during the illness 
of the regular porter ; for which, as he was only a substitute, 
he received the very moderate sum of twenty-five cents a day. 

This occupation took Traverse from home at daybreak in 
the morning, and kept him absent until eight o’clock at night. 
Nevertheless, the widow always gave him a hot breakfast be- 
fore he went out in the morning and kept a comfortable sup- 
per waiting for him at night. 

It was during this last social meal that the youth would tell 
his mother all that had occurred in his world outside the 
home that day, and all that he expected to come to pass the 
next, for Traverse was wonderfully hopeful and sanguine. 

And after supper the evening was generally spent by Trav- 
erse in hard study beside his mother’s sewing-stand. 

Upon this evening, when the widow sat waiting for her son, 
he seemed to be detained longer than usual. She almost 
feared that the biscuits would be burned, or, if taken from the 
oven, be cold before he would come to enjoy them ; but, just 
as she had looked for the twentieth time at the little black 
walnut clock that stood between those old plated candlesticks 
on the mantelpiece, the sound of quick, light, joyous footsteps 
was heard resounding along the stony street, the gate was 
opened, a hand laid upon the door-latch, and the next instant 
entered a youth some seventeen years of age, clad in a home- 
spun suit, whose coarse material and clumsy make could not 
disguise his noble form or graceful air. 

He was like his mother, with the same oval face, regular 
features and pale olive complexion, with the same full, serious 
lips, the same dark, tender brown eyes, shaded by long, black 
lashes, and the same wavy, jet-black hah but there was a 


62 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


difference in the character of their faces ; where hers showed 
refinement and melancholy, his exhibited strength and cheer- 
fulness — his loving brown eyes, instead of drooping sadly 
under the shadow of their lashes, looked you brightly and con- 
fidently full in the face ; and, lastly, his black hair curled 
crisply around a broad, high forehead, royal with intellect. 
Such was the boy that entered the room and came joyously 
forward to his mother, clasping his arm around her neck, 
saluting her on both cheeks, and then laughingly claiming his 
childish privilege of kissing “ the pretty little black mole on 
her throat.” 

“ Will you never have outgrown your babyhood, Traverse?” 
asked his mother, smiling at his affectionate ardor. 

“ Yes, dear little mother ; in everything but the privilege of 
fondling you ; that feature of babyhood I never shall outgrow,” 
exclaimed the youth, kissing her again with all the ardor of 
his true and affectionate heart, and starting up to help her set 
the table. 

He dragged the table out from under the window, spread 
the cloth and placed the cups and saucers upon it, while his 
mother took the biscuits from the oven and made the tea ; so 
that in ten minutes from the moment in which he entered the 
room, mother and son were seated at their frugal supper. 

“ I suppose, to-morrow being Saturday, you will have to get 
up earlier than usual to go to the store?” said his mother. 

“ No, ma’am,” replied the boy, looking up brightly, as if 
he were telling a piece of good news ; “ I am not wanted any 
longer. Mr. Spicer’s own man has got well again and re- 
turned to work.” 

“So you are discharged? ” said Mrs. Rocke, sadly. 

“Yes, ma’am; but just think how fortunate that is, for I 
shall have a chance to-morrow of mending the fence and 
nailing up the gate and sawing wood enough to last you a 
week, besides doing all the other little odd jobs that have 
been waiting for me so long ; and then on Monday I shall 
get more work.” 

“ I wish I were sure of it,” said the widow, whose hopes 
had long since been too deeply crushed to permit her ever to 
be sanguine. 

When their supper was over and the humble service cleared 
away, the youth took his books and applied himself to study 
on the opposite side of the table at which his mother sat 


MARAH ROCKE. $3 

Iwsied with her needlework. And there fell a perfect silence 
between them. 

The widow’s mind was anxious and her heart heavy ; many 
cares never communicated to cloud the bright sunshme of 
her boy’s soul oppressed hers. The rent had fallen fearfully 
behindhand, and the landlord threatened, unless the money 
could be raised to pay him, to seize their furniture and eject 
them from the premises. And how this money was to be 
raised she could not see at all. True, this meek Christian had 
often in her sad experience proved God’s special providence 
at her utmost need, and now she believed in His ultimate in- 
terference, but in what manner He would now interpose she 
could not imagine, and her faith grew dim and her hope dark 
and her love cold. 

While she was revolving these sad thoughts in her mind, 
Traverse suddenly thrust aside his books, and, with a deep 
sigh, turned to his mother and said : 

“ Mother, what do you think has ever become of Herbert ? ” 

“ I do not know ; I dread to conjecture. It has now been 
nearly three years since we heard from him,” exclaimed the 
widow, with the tears welling up in her brown eyes. 

“ You think he has been lost at sea, mother, but I don’t. 
I simply think his letters have been lost. And, somehow, to- 
night I can’t fix my mind on my lesson or keep it off Her- 
bert. He is running in my head all the time. If I were fan- 
ciful, now, I should believe that Herbert was dead and his 
spirit was about me. Good heavens, mother, whose step is 
that? ” suddenly exclaimed the youth, starting up and assum- 
ing an attitude of intense listening, as a firm and ringing step, 
attended by a peculiar whistling, approached up the street 
and entered the gate. 

“ It is Herbert ! it is Herbert ! ” cried Traverse, starting 
across the room and tearing open the door with a suddenness 
that threw the entering guest forward upon his own bosom ; 
but his arms were soon around the newcomer, clasping him 
closely there, while he breathlessly exclaimed : 

“ Oh, Herbert, I am so glad to see you ! Oh, Herbert, 
why didn’t you come or write all this long time? Oh, Her- 
bert, how long have you been ashore? I was just talking 
about you.” 

“Dear fellow! dear fellow! I have come to make you 
glad at last, and to repay all your great kindness ; but m*** 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


64 

let me speak to my second mother,” said Herbert, returmn 6 
Traverse’s embrace and then gently extricating himself and 
going to where Mrs. Rocke stood up, pale, trembling and in- 
credulous ; she had not yet recovered from the great shock 
of his unexpected appearance. 

“ Dear mother, won’t you welcome me?” asked Herbert, 
going up to her. His words dissolved the spell that bound 
her. Throwing her arms around his neck and bursting into 
tears, she exclaimed : 

“ Oh, my son ! my son ! my sailor boy ! my other child ! 
how glad I am to have you back once more ! Welcome? 
To be sure you are welcome ! Is my own circulating blood 
welcome back to my heart? But sit you down and rest by 
die fire ; I will get your supper directly.” 

“ Sweet mother, do not take the trouble. I supped twenty 
miles back, where the stage stopped.” 

“ And will you take nothing at all? ” 

“ Nothing, dear mother, but your kind hand to kiss again 
and again ! ” said the youth, pressing that hand to his lips 
and then allowing the widow to put him into a chair right in 
front of the fire. 

Traverse sat on one side of him and his mother on the 
other, each holding a hand of his and gazing on him with 
mingled incredulity, surprise and delight, as if, indeed, they 
could not realize his presence except by devouring him with 
their eyes. 

And for the next half hour all their talk was as wild and in- 
coherent as the conversation of long-parted friends suddenly 
brought together is apt to be. 

It was all made up of hasty questions, hurried one upon 
another, so as to leave but little chance to have any of them 
answered, and wild exclamations and disjointed sketches of 
travel, interrupted by frequent ejaculations; yet through all 
the widow and her son, perhaps through the quickness of 
their love as well as of their intellect, managed to get some 
knowledge of the past three years of their “ sailor boy’s ” life 
and adventures, and they entirely vindicated his constancy 
when they learned how frequently and regularly he had written, 
though they had never received his letters. 

“ And now,” said Herbert, looking from side to side from 
mother to son, “ I have told you all my adventures, I am 
dying to tell you something that concerns yourselves.” 


MARAH ROCKE. 6$ 

“That concerns us?” exclaimed mother and son in a 
breath. 

“ Yes, ma’am ; yes, sir ; that concerns you both eminently. 
But, first of all, let me ask how you are getting on at the 
present time.” 

“ Oh, as usual,” said the widow, smiling, for she did not 
wish to dampen the spirits of her sailor boy ; “ as usual, of 
course. Traverse has not been able to accomplish his darling 
purpose of entering the Seminary yet; but ” 

“ But I’m getting on quite well with my education, for aXf 
that,” interrupted Traverse; “for 1 belong to Dr. Day’s Bible 
class in the Sabbath school, which is a class of young men, 
you know, and the doctor is so good as to think that I have 
some mental gifts worth cultivating, so he does not confine 
his instructions to me to the Bible class alone, but permits me 
to come to him in his library at Willow Heights for an hour 
twice a week, when he examines me in Latin and algebra, and 
sets me new exercises, which I study and write out at night ; 
so that you see I am doing very well.” 

“ Indeed, the doctor, who is a great scholar, and one of the 
trustees and examiners of the Seminary, says that he does not 
know any young man there, with all the advantages of the in- 
stitution around him, who is getting along so fast as Traverse 
is, with all the difficulties he has to encounter. The doctor 
says it is all because Traverse is profoundly in earnest, and 
that one of these days he will be ” 

“There, mother, don’t repeat all the doctor’s kind speeches. 
He only says such things to encourage a poor boy in the pur- 
suit of knowledge under difficulties,” said Traverse, blushing 
and laughing. 

“ ‘ — Will be an honor to his kindred, country and race ! ’ ” 
said Herbert, finishing the widow’s incomplete quotation. 

“ It was something like that, indeed,” she said, nodding 
and smiling. 

“ You do me proud ! ” said Traverse, touching his forelock 
with comic gravity. “ But,” inquired he, suddenly changing 
his tone and becoming serious, “ was it not — is it not — noble 
in the doctor to give up an hour of his precious time twice a 
week for no other cause than to help a poor, struggling fellow 
like me up the ladder of learning? ” 

“ I should think it was ! But he is not the first noble heart 
I ever heard of ! ” said Herbert, with an affectionate glance 


66 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


that directed the compliment. “ Nor is his the last that you 
will meet with. I must tell you the good news now.” 

“ Oh, tell it, tell it ! Have you got a ship of your own, 
Herbert ? ” 

“ No ; nor is it about myself that I am anxious to tell you. 
Mrs. Rocke, you may have heard that I had a rich uncle 
whom I had never seen, because, from the time of my dear 
mother’s marriage to that of her death, she and her brother — 
this very uncle — had been estranged?” 

“ Yes,” said the widow, speaking in a very low tone and 
bending her head over her work ; “ yes, I have heard so ; but 
your mother and myself seldom alluded to the subject.” 

“ Exactly ; mother never was fond of talking of him. 
Well, when I came ashore and went, as usual, up to the old 
Washington House, who should I meet with, all of a sudden, 
but this rich uncle. He had come to New York to claim a 
little girl whom I happened to know, and who happened to 
recognize me and name me to him. Well, I knew him only 
by his name ; but he knew me both by my name and by my 
likeness to his sister, and received me with wonderful kind- 
ness, offered me a home under his roof, and promised to get 
for me an appointment to West Point. Are you not glad ? — 
say, are you not glad? ” he exclaimed, jocosely clapping his 
hand upon Traverse’s knee, and then turning around and look- 
ing at his mother. 

“Oh, yes, indeed, I am very glad, Herbert,” exclaimed 
Traverse, heartily grasping and squeezing his friend’s 
hand. 

“ Yes, yes ; I am indeed sincerely glad of your good for- 
tune, dear boy,” said the widow ; but her voice was very faint 
and her head bent still lower over her work. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha ! I knew you’d be glad for me ; but now I 
require you to be glad for yourselves. Now listen ! When I 
told my honest old uncle — for he is honest, with all his eccen- 
tricities — when I told him of what friends you had been to 
me ” 

“Oh, no ; you did not — you did not mention us to him? ” 
cried the widow, suddenly starting up and clasping her hands 
together, while she gazed in an agony of entreaty into the 
face of the speaker. 

“ Why not ? Why in the world not ? Was there anything 
improper in doing so? ” inquired Herbert in astonishment, 


MARAH ROCKE, 6; 

while Traverse himself gazed in amazement at the excessive 
and unaccountable agitation of his mother. 

“Why, mother? Why shouldn’t he have mentioned us? 
Was there anything strange or wrong in that?” inquired 
Traverse. 

“ No ; oh no; certainly not; I forgot, it was so sudden,” 
said the widow, sinking back in her chair and struggling for 
self-control. 

“Why, mother, what in the world is the meaning of this? ” 
asked her son. 

“Nothing, nothing, boy; only we are poor folks, and 
should not be forced upon the attention of a wealthy gentle- 
man,” she said with a cold, unnatural smile, putting her hand 
to her brow and striving to gain composure. Then, as Her- 
bert continued silent and amazed, she said to him : 

“ Go on, go on — you were saying something about my — 
about Major Warfield’s kindness to you — go on.” And she 
took up her work and tried to sew, but she was as pale as 
death and trembling all over at the same time that every nerve 
was acute with attention to catch every word that might fall 
from the lips of Herbert. 

“ Well,” recommenced the young sailor, “ I was just saying 
that when I mentioned you and Traverse to my uncle, and 
told him how kind and disinterested you had been to me — 
you being like a mother and Traverse like a brother — he was 
really moved almost to tears. Yes, I declare I saw the rain- 
drops glittering in his tempestuous old orbs as he walked the 
floor muttering to himself, ‘Poor women — good, excellent 
woman.’ ” 

While Herbert spoke the widow dropped her work without 
seeming to know r that she had done so ; her fingers twitched so 
nervously that she had to hold both hands clasped together, 
and her eyes were fixed in intense anxiety upon the face of 
the youth as she repeated : 

“ Go on — oh, go on. What more did he say when you 
talked of us ? ” 

“ He said everything that was kind and good. He said 
that he could not do too much to compensate you for the 
past.” 

“Oh, did he say that? ” exclaimed the widow, breathlessly. 

“ Yes, and a great deal more — that all that he could do for 
you or your son was but a sacred debt he owed you.” 


68 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Oh, he acknowledged it — he acknowledged it ! Thank 
Heaven ! oh, thank Heaven ! Go on, Herbert ; go on.” 

“ He said that he would in future take the whole charge of 
the boy’s advancement in life, and that he would place you 
above want forever : that he would, in fact, compensate for 
the past by doing you and yours full justice.” 

“ Thank Heaven ! oh, thank Heaven ! ” exclaimed the 
widow, no longer concealing her agitation, but throwing down 
her work, and starting up and pacing the floor in excess of joy. 

“ Mother,” said Traverse, uneasily, going to her and taking 
her hand, “ mother, what is the meaning of all this ? Do 
come and sit down.” 

She immediately turned and walked back to the fire, and, 
resting her hands upon the back of the chair, bent upon them 
a face radiant with youthful beauty. Her cheeks were brightly 
flushed, her eyes were sparkling with light, her whole coun- 
tenance resplendent with joy — she scarcely seemed twenty 
years of age. 

“ Mother, tell us what it is,” pleaded Traverse, who feared 
for her sanity. 

“ Oh, boys, I am so happy ! At last ! at last ! after eigh- 
teen years of patient t hoping against hope ! ’ I shall go mad 
with joy ! ” 

“ Mother,” said Herbert, softly. 

“ Children, I am not crazy ! I know what I am saying, 
though I did not intend to say it ! And you shall know, too ! 
But first I must ask Herbert another question : Herbert, are 
you very sure that he — Major Warfield — knew who we were? ” 

“ Yes, indeed ; didn’t I tell him all about you — your troubles, 
your struggles, your disinterestedness and all your history since 
ever I knew you?” answered Herbert, who was totally un- 
conscious that he had left Major Warfield in ignorance of one 
very important fact — her surname. 

“ Then you are sure he knew who he was talking about?” 

“ Of course he did.” 

“ He could not have failed to do so, indeed. But, Herbert, 
did he mention any other important fact that you have not yet 
communicated to us ? ” 

“ No, ma’am.” 

" Did he allude to any previous acquaintance with us? ” 

“ No, ma’am, unless it might have been in the words I re- 
peated to you — there was nothing else — except that he bade 


THE ROOM OF THE TRAP-DOOR. 69 

me hurry to you and make you glad with his message, and re- 
turn as soon as possible to let him know whether you accept 
his offers.” 

“ Accept them ! accept them ! Of course I do. I have 
waited for them for years. Oh, children, you gaze on me as 
if you thought me mad. I am not so ; nor can I now explain 
myself, for, since he has not chosen to be confidential with 
Herbert, I cannot be so prematurely ; but you will know all 
when Herbert shall have borne back my message to Major 
Warfield.” 

It was indeed a mad evening in the cottage. And even 
when the little family had separated and retired to bed, the 
two youths, lying together as formerly, could not sleep for 
talking, while the widow on her lonely couch lay awake for joy. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE ROOM OF THE TRAP-DOOR. 


If you have hitherto concealed this sight, 

Let it be tenable, in your silence still ; 

And whatsoever else doth hap to-night, 

Give it an understanding, but no tongue. 

— Shakespeare. 

Capitola, meanwhile, in the care of the major, arrived at 
Hurricane Hall, much to the discomfiture of good Mrs. Con- 
diment, who was quite unprepared to expect the new inmate ; 
and when Major Warfield said : 

“ Mrs. Condiment, this is your young lady ; take her up to the 
best bedroom, where she can take off her bonnet and shawl,” 
the worthy dame, thinking secretly, “ The old fool has gone 
and married a young wife, sure enough ; a mere chit of a 
child,” made a very deep curtsy and a very queer cough and 
said : 

“ I am mortified, madam, at the fire not being made in the 
best bedroom ; but, then, I was not warned of your coming, 
madam.” 

“ Madam ? Is the old woman crazed ? This child is no 
* madam.’ She is Miss Black, my ward, the daughter of a 
deceased friend,” sharply exclaimed Old Hurricane. 


7 o 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Excuse me, miss ; I did not know ; I was unprepared to 
receive a young lady. Shall I attend you, Miss Black ? 99 said 
the old lady, in a mollified tone. 

“ If you please,” said Capitola, who arose to follow her. 

“Not expecting you, miss, I have no proper room pre* 
pared ; most of them are not furnished, and in some the 
chimneys are foul ; indeed, the only tolerable room I can put 
you in is the room with the trap-door — if you would not ob- 
ject to it,” said Mrs. Condiment, as with a candle in her 
hand she preceded Capitola along the gloomy hall and then 
opened a door that led into a narrow passage. 

“ A room with a trap-door ? That’s a curious thing ; but 
why should I object to it? I don’t at all. I think I should 
rather like it,” said Capitola. 

“ I will show it to you and tell you about it, and then if 
you like it, well and good. If not, I shall have to put you in 
a room that leaks and has swallows’ nests in the chimney,” 
answered Mrs. Condiment, as she led the way along the nar- 
row passages and up and down dark back stairs and through 
bare and deserted rooms and along other passages until she 
reached a remote chamber, opened the door and invited her 
guest to enter. 

It was a large, shadowy room, through which the single 
candle shed such a faint, uncertain light that at first Capitola 
could see nothing but black masses looming through the 
darkness. 

But when Mrs. Condiment advanced and set the candle 
upon the chimney-piece, and Capitola’s sight accommodated 
itself to the scene, she saw that upon the right of the chimney- 
piece stood a tall tester bedstead, curtained with very dark 
crimson serge ; on the left hand, thick curtains of the same 
color draped the two windows. Between the windows, directly 
opposite the bed, stood a dark mahogany dressing bureau 
with a large looking-glass ; a washstand in the left-hand corner 
of the chimney-piece, and a rocking-chair and two plain 
chairs completed the furniture of this room that I am particu 
lar in describing, as upon the simple accident of its arrange- 
ment depended, upon two occasions, the life and honor of its 
occupant. There was no carpet on the floor, with the excep- 
tion of a large, old Turkey rug that was laid before the fire- 
place. 

Here, my dear, this room is perfectly dry and comfortable^ 


THE ROOM OF THE TRAP-DOOR. 


7i 


and we always keep kindlings built up in the fireplace ready 
to light in case a guest should come,” said Mrs. Condiment, 
applying a match to the waste paper under the pine knots 
and logs that filled the chimney. Soon there arose a cheerful 
blaze that lighted up all the room, glowing on the crimson 
serge bed curtains and window curtains and flashing upon the 
large looking-glass between them. 

“ There, my dear, sit down and make yourself comfortable,” 
said Mrs. Condiment, drawing up the rocking-chair. 

Capitola threw herself into it, and looked around and 
around the room, and then into the face of the old lady say- 
ing : 

“ But what about the trap-door? I see no trap-door.” 

“ Ah, yes — look ! ” said Mrs. Condiment, lifting up the rug 
and revealing a large drop, some four feet square, that was 
kept up in its place by a short iron bolt. 

“ Now, my dear, take care of yourself, for this bolt slides 
very easily, and if, while you happened to be walking across 
this place, you were to push the bolt back, the trap-door would 
drop and you fall down — heaven knows where ! ” 

“ Is there a cellar under there?” inquired Capitola, gazing 
with interest upon the door. 

“ Lord knows, child ; I don’t. I did once make one of the 
nigger men let it down so I could look in it ; but, Lord, child, 
I saw nothing but a great, black, deep vacuity, without bot- 
tom or sides. It put such a horror over me that I have never 
looked down there since, and never want to, I’m sure.” 

“ Ugh ! for goodness’ sake what was the horrid thing made 
for?” ejaculated Capitola, gazing as if fascinated by the 
trap. 

“ The Lord only knows, my dear ; for it was made long be- 
fore ever the house came into the major’s family. But they 
do say ” whispered Mrs. Condiment, mysteriously. 

“ Ah ! what do they say? ” asked Capitola, eagerly, throw- 
ing off her bonnet and shawl and settling herself to hear some 
thrilling explanation. 

Mrs. Condiment slowly replaced the rug, drew another 
chair to the side of the young girl and said : 

“ They do say it was — a trap for Indians ! ” 

“ A trap for Indians? ” 

“ Yes, my dear. You must know that this room belongs 
to the oldest part of the house. It was all built as far back 


72 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


as the old French and Indian war ; but this room belonged 
to the part that dates back to the first settlement of the 
country.” 

“ Then I shall like it better than any room in the house, 
for I dote on old places with stories to them. Go on, 
please.” 

“ Yes, my dear. Well, first of all, this place was a part of 
the grant of land given to the Le Noirs. And the first owner, 
old Henri Le Noir, was said to be one of the grandest villains 
that ever was heard of. Well, you see, he lived out here in 
his hunting lodge, which is this part of the house.” 

“ Oh, my ! then this very room was a part of the old pioneer 
hunter’s lodge? ” 

“ Yes, my dear ; and they do say that he had this place 
made as a trap for the Indians ! You see, they say he was on 
terms of friendship with the Succapoos, a little tribe of Indians 
that was nearly wasted away, though among the few that was 
left there were several braves. Well, he wanted to buy a cer- 
tain large tract of land from this tribe, and they were all will- 
ing to sell it except those half a dozen warriors, who wanted 
it for camping ground. So what does this awful villain do but 
lay a snare for them. He makes a great feast in his lodge 
and invites his red brothers to come to it ; and they come. 
Then he proposes that they stand upon his blanket and all 
swear eternal brotherhood, which he made the poor souls be- 
lieve was the right way to do it. Then when they all six 
stood close together as they could stand, with hands held up 
touching above their heads, all of a sudden the black villain 
sprung the bolt, the trap fell and the six men went down — . 
down, the Lord knows where ! ” 

“ Oh ! that is horrible ! horrible ! ” cried Capitola ; “ but 
where do you think they fell to? ” 

“ I tell you the Lord only knows ! They say that it is a 
bottomless abyss, with no outlet but one crooked one, miles 
long, that reaches to the Demon’s Punch Bowl. But if there 
is a bottom to that abyss, that bottom is strewn with human 
bones ! ” 

“ Oh ! horrible ! most horrible ! ” exclaimed Capitola. 

“ Perhaps you are afraid to sleep here by yourself? If so, 
there’s the damp room ” 

“ Oh, no ! oh, no ! Iam not afraid. I have been in too 
much deadly peril from the living ever to fear the dead ! No, 


THE ROOM OF THE TRAP-DOOR. 


73 


I like the room, with its strange legend ; but tell me, did that 
human devil escape without punishment from the tribe of the 
murdered victims? ” 

“ Lord, child, how were they to know of what was done ? 
There wasn’t a man left to tell the tale. Besides, the tribe 
was now brought down to a few old men, women and children. 
So, when he showed a bill of sale for the land he wanted, 
signed by the six braves — * their marks,’ in six blood-red ar- 
rows, there was none to contradict him.” 

“ How was his villainy found out? ” 

“ Well, it was said he married, had a family and prospered 
for a long while ; but that the poor Succapoos always sus- 
pected him, and bore a long grudge, and that when the sons 
of the murdered warriors grew up to be powerful braves, one 
night they set upon the house and massacred the whole family 
except the eldest son, a lad of ten, who escaped and ran away 
and gave the alarm to the block-house, where there were 
soldiers stationed. It is said that after killing and scalping 
father, mother and children, the savages threw the dead bodies 
down that trap-door. And they had just set fire to the house 
and were dancing their wild dance around it, when the soldiers 
arrived and dispersed the party and put out the fire.” 

“ Oh, what bloody, bloody days ! ” 

“ Yes, my dear, and as I told you before, if that horrible 
pit has any bottom, that bottom is strewn with human skel- 
etons ! ” 

“ It is an awful thought ” 

“ As I said, my dear, if you feel at all afraid you can have 
another room.” 

“ Afraid ! What of? Those skeletons, supposing them to 
be there, cannot hurt me ! I am not afraid of the dead ! I 
only dread the living, and not them much, either ! ” said 
Capitola. 

“ Well, my dear, you will want a waiting- woman, anyhow ; 
and I think I will send Pitapat to wait on you ; she can sleep 
on a pallet in your room, and be some company.” 

“ And who is Pitapat, Mrs. Condiment ? ” 

“ Pitapat ? Lord, child, she is the youngest of the house- 
maids. I’ve called her Pitapat ever since she was a little one 
beginning to walk, when she used to steal away from her 
mother, Dorcas, the cook, and I would hear her little feet 
coming pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, up the dark stairs up to my room. 


74 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


As it was often the only sound to be heard in the still house, 
I grew to call my little visitor Pitapat.” 

“ Then let me have Pitapat by all means. I like company, 
especially company that I can send away when I choose.” 

“Very well, my dear; and now I think you’d better smooth 
your hair and come down with me to tea, for it is full time, 
and the major, as you may know, is not the most patient of 
men.” 

Capitola took a brush from her traveling-bag, hastily ar- 
ranged her black ringlets and announced herself ready. 

They left the room and traversed the same labyrinth of pas- 
sages, stairs, empty rooms and halls back to the dining-room, 
where a comfortable fire burned and a substantial supper was 
spread. 

Old Hurricane took Capitola’s hand with a hearty grasp, 
and placed her in a chair at the side, and then took his own 
seat at the foot of the table. 

Mrs. Condiment sat at the head and poured out the tea. 

“ Uncle,” said Capitola, suddenly, “ what is under the trap- 
door in my room? ” 

“ What ! Have they put you in that room? ” exclaimed the 
old man, hastily looking up. 

“There was no other one prepared, sir,” said the house- 
keeper. 

“ Besides, I like it very well, uncle,” said Capitola. 

“ Humph ! humph I humph ! ” grunted the old man, only 
half satisfied. 

“But, uncle, what is under the trap-door ?” persisted Capi- 
tola ; “ what’s under it ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know — an old cave that was once used as a 
dry cellar until an underground stream broke through and 
made it too damp, so it is said. I never explored it.” 

“ But, uncle, what about the ” 

Here Mrs. Condiment stretched out her foot and trod upon 
the toes of Capitola so sharply that it made her stop short, 
while she dexterously changed the conversation by asking the 
major if he would not send Wool to Tip-Top in the morning 
for another bag of coffee. 

Soon after supper was over Capitola, saying that she was 
tired, bade her uncle good night, and, attended by her little 
black maid Pitapat, whom Mrs. Condiment had called up for 
the purpose, retired to her distant chamber. There were 


THE ROOM OF THE TRAP-DOOR. 


75 

already collected here three trunks, which the liberality of her 
uncle had filled. 

As soon as she had got in and locked the door she detached 
one of the strongest straps from her largest trunk and then 
turned up the rug and secured the end of the strap to the ring 
in the trap-door. Then she withdrew the bolt, and, holding 
on to one end of the strap, gently lowered the trap, and, 
kneeling, gazed down into an awful black void — without bound- 
aries, without sight, without sounds, except a deep, faint, sub. 
terranean roaring as of water. 

“ Bring the light, Pitapat, and hold it over this place, and 
take care you don’t fall in,” said Capitola. “ Come, as I’ve 
got a ‘ pit ’ in my name and you’ve got a ‘ pit ’ in yours, we’ll 
see if we can’t make something of this third ‘ pit.’ ” 

“Deed, I’se ’fraid, Miss,” said the poor little darkey. 

“Afraid! What of?” 

“ Ghoses.” 

“ Nonsense. I’ll agree to lay every ghost you see ! ” 

The little maid approached, candle in hand, but in such a 
gingerly sort of way, that Capitola seized the light from her 
hand, and, stooping, held it down as far as she could reach 
and gazed once more into the abyss. But this only made the 
horrible darkness “ visible ; ” no object caught or reflected a 
Single ray of light ; all was black, hollow, void and silent ex- 
cept the faint, deep, distant, roaring as of subterraneous water ! 

Capitola pushed the light as far down as she could possibly 
reach, and then, yielding to a strange fascination, dropped it 
into the abyss ! It went down, down, down, down into the 
darkness, until far below it glimmered out of sight. Then 
with an awful shudder Capitola pulled up and fastened the 
trap-door, laid down the rug and said her prayers and went to 
bed by the firelight, with little Pitapat sleeping on a pallet. 
The last thought of Cap, before falling to sleep, was : 

“ It is awful to go to bed over such a horrible mystery ; but 
I will be a hero 1 ” 


;6 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


CHAPTER XI. 

A MYSTERY AND A STORM AT HURRICANE HALL. 

Bid her address her prayers to Heaven ! 

Learn if she there may be forgiven ; 

Its mercy may absolve her yet ! 

But here upon this earth beneath 
There is no spot where she and I 

Together for an hour could breathe! 

—Byron. 

Early the next morning Capitola arose, made her toilet and 
went out to explore the outer walls of her part of the old 
house, to discover, if possible, some external entrance into the 
unknown cavity under her room. It was a bright, cheerful, 
healthy autumnal morning, well adapted to dispel all clouds of 
mystery and superstition. Heaps of crimson and golden-hued 
leaves, glimmering with hoar frost, lay drifted against the old 
walls, and when these were brushed away by the busy hands 
of the young girl they revealed nothing but the old moldering 
foundation; not a vestige of a cellar-door or window was 
visible. 

Capitola abandoned the fruitless search, and turned to go 
into the house. And saying to herself — 

“ I’ll think no more of it ! I dare say, after all, it is nothing 
but a very dark cellar without window and with a well, and the 
story of the murders and of the skeletons is all moonshine,'* 
she ran into the dining-room and took her seat at the break- 
fast table. 

Old Hurricane was just then storming away at his factotum 
Wool for some misdemeanor, the nature of which Capitola did 
not hear, for upon her appearance he suffered his wrath to 
subside in a few reverberating, low thunders, gave his ward a 
grump hy “ Good morning ” and sat down to his breakfast. 

After breakfast Old Hurricane took his great-coat and old 
cocked hat and stormed forth upon the plantation to blow up 
his lazy overseer, Mr. Will Ezy, and his idle negroes, who had 
loitered or frolicked away all the days of their master’s ab- 
sence. 

Mrs. Condiment went away to mix a plum pudding for din- 
ner, and Cap was left alone. 


A STORM AT HURRICANE HALL. 77 

After wandering through the lower rooms of the house the 
stately, old-fashioned drawing-room, the family parlor, the 
dining-room, etc., Cap found her way through all the narrow 
back passages and steep little staircases back to her own 
chamber. 

The chamber looked quite different by daylight — the cheer- 
ful wood fire burning in the chimney right before her, oppo- 
site the door by which she entered ; the crimson draped win- 
dows, with the rich, old mahogany bureau and dressing-glass 
standing between them on her left; the polished, dark oak 
floor; the comfortable rocking chair; the new work-stand, 
placed there for her use that morning and her own well-filled 
trunks standing in the corners, looked altogether too cheerful 
to associate with dark thoughts. 

Besides, Capitola had not the least particle of gloom, super- 
stition or marvelousness in her disposition. She loved old 
houses and old legends well enough to enjoy them ; but was 
not sufficiently credulous to believe, or cowardly to fear, them. 

She had, besides, a pleasant morning’s occupation before her, 
in unpacking her three trunks and arranging her wardrobe 
and her possessions, which were all upon the most liberal scale, 
for Major Warfield at every city where they had stopped had 
given his poor little prot£g£e a virtual carte blanche for pur- 
chases, having said to her : 

“ Capitola, I’m an old bachelor ; I’ve not the least idea 
what a young girl requires ; all I know is, that you have noth- 
ing but your clothes, and must want sewing and knitting 
needles and brushes and scissors and combs and boxes and 
smelling bottles and tooth powder and such. So come along 
with me to one of those Vanity Fairs they call fancy stores and 
get what you want ; I’ll foot the bill.” 

And Capitola, who firmly believed that she had the most 
sacred of claims upon Major Warfield, whose resources she 
also supposed to be unlimited, did not fail to indulge her taste 
for rich and costly toys and supplied herself with a large ivory 
dressing-case, lined with velvet and furnished with ivory- 
handled combs and brushes, silver boxes and crystal bottles, a 
papier-mache work-box, with gold thimble, needle-case and 
perforator and gold-mounted scissors and winders; and an 
ebony writing-desk, with silver-mounted crystal standishes ; 
each of these — boxes and desk — was filled with all things req- 
. uisite in the several departments. And now as Capitola un- 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


78 

packed them and arranged them upon the top of her bureau, 
it was with no small degree of appreciation. The rest of the 
forenoon was spent in arranging the best articles of her ward- 
robe in her bureau drawers. 

Having locked the remainder in her trunks and carefully 
smoothed her hair, and dressed herself in a brown merino, she 
went down-stairs and sought out Mrs. Condiment, whom she 
found in the housekeeper’s little room, and to whom she said : 

“ Now, Mrs. Condiment, if uncle has any needlework wanted 
to be done, any buttons to be sewed on, or anything of that 
kind, just let me have it ; I’ve got a beautiful work-box, and 
I’m just dying to use it.” 

“ My dear Miss Black ” 

“ Please to call me Capitola, or even Cap. I never was 
called Miss Black in my life until I came here, and I don’t 
like it at all ! ” 

“ Well, then, my dear Miss Cap, I wish you would wait till 
to-morrow, for I just came in here in a great hurry to get a 
glass of brandy out of the cupboard to put in the sauce for 
the plum-pudding, as dinner will be on the table in ten 
minutes.” 

With a shrug of her little shoulders, Capitola left the house- 
keeper’s room and hurried through the central front hall and 
out at the front door, to look about and breathe the fresh air 
for a while. 

As she stepped upon the front piazza she saw Major War- 
field walking up the steep lawn, followed by Wool, leading a 
pretty mottled iron-gray pony, with a side-saddle on his back. 

“ Ah, I’m glad you’re down, Cap ! Come ! look at this 
pretty pony ! he is good for nothing as a working horse, and 
is too light to carry my weight, and so I intend to give him to 
you ! You must learn to ride,” said the old man, coming up 
the steps. 

“ Give him to me ! I learn to ride ! Oh, uncle ! Oh, 
uncle ! I shall go perfectly crazy with joy ! ” exclaimed Cap, 
dancing and clapping her hands with delight. 

“ Oh, well, a tumble or two in learning will bring you back 
to your senses, I reckon ! ” 

“ Oh, uncle ! oh, uncle ! When shall I begin ? ” 

“ You shall take your first tumble immediately after dinner, 
when, being well filled, you will not be so brittle and apt to 
break in falling ! ” 


A STORM AT HURRICANE HALL. 


79 

“ Oh, unde ! I shall not fall ! I feel I shan’t ! I feel I’ve 
a natural gift for holding on ! ” 

“ Come, come ; get in ! get in ! I want my dinner ! ” said 
Old Hurricane, driving his ward in before him to the dining- 
room, where the dinner was smoking upon the table. 

After dinner Cap, with Wool for a riding-master, took her 
first lesson in equestrianism. She had the four great requisites 
for forming a good rider — a well- adapted figure, a fondness for 
the exercise, perfect fearlessness and presence of mind. She 
was not once in danger of losing her seat, and during that 
single afternoon’s exercise she made considerable progress in 
learning to manage her steed. 

Old Hurricane, whom the genial autumn afternoon had 
tempted out to smoke his pipe in his armchair on the porch, 
was a pleased spectator of her performances, and expressed 
his opinion that in time she would become the best rider in 
the neighborhood, and that she should have the best riding- 
dress and cap that could be made at Tip Top. 

Just now, in lack of an equestrian dress, poor Cap was 
parading around the lawn with her head bare and her hair 
flying and her merino skirt exhibiting more ankles than grace. 

It was while Old Hurricane still sat smoking his pipe and 
making his comments and Capitola still ambled around and 
around the lawn that a horseman suddenly appeared galloping 
as fast as the steep nature of the ground would admit up to- 
ward the house, and before they could form an idea who he 
was the horse was at the block, and the rider dismounted and 
standing before Major Warfield. 

“ Why, Herbert, my boy, back so soon? We didn’t expect 
you for a week to come. This is sudden, indeed ! So much 
the better ! so much the better ! Glad to see you, lad ! ” ex- 
claimed Old Hurricane, getting up and heartily shaking the 
hand of his nephew. 

Capitoia came ambling up, and in the effort to spring nim- 
bly from her saddle tumbled off, much to the delight of Wool, 
who grinned from ear to ear, and of Old Hurricane, who, with 
an “ I said so,” burst into a roar of laughter. 

Herbert Greyson sprang to assist her ; but before he reached 
the spot Cap had picked herself up, straightened her dis- 
ordered dress, and now she ran to meet and shake hands 
with him. 

There was such a sparkle of joy and glow of affection in the 


8o 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


meeting between these two that Old Hurricane, who saw it, 
suddenly hushed his laugh and grunted to himself : 

“ Humph ! humph ! humph ! I like that ; that’s better 
than I could have planned myself ; let that go on, and then, 
Gabe Le Noir, we’ll see under what name and head the old 
divided manor will be held ! ” 

Before his mental soliloquy was concluded, Herbert and 
Capitola came up to him. He welcomed Herbert again with 
great cordiality, and then called to his man to put up the 
horses, and bade the young people to follow him into the 
house, as the air was getting chilly. 

“ And how did you find your good friends, lad? ” inquired 
Old Hurricane, when they had reached the sitting parlor. 

" Oh, very well, sir ! and very grateful for your offered 
kindness ; and, indeed, so anxious to express their gratitude — 
that — that I shortened my visit and came away immediately 
to tell you.” 

“ Right, lad, right ! You come by the down coach? ” 

“ Yes, sir, and got off at Tip Top, where I hired a horse to 
bring me here. I must ask you to let one of your men take 
him back to Mr. Merry at the Antler’s Inn to-morrow.” 

“ Surely, surely, lad ! Wool shall do it ! ” 

“ And so, Herbert, the poor woman was delighted at the 
prospect of better times?” said Old Hurricane, with a little 
glow of benevolent self-satisfaction. 

“ Oh, yes, sir ; delighted beyond all measure ! ” 

“ Poor thing ! poor thing ! See, young folks, how easy it 
is for the wealthy, by sparing a little of their superfluous means, 
to make the poor and virtuous happy ! And the boy, Herbert, 
the boy? ” 

“ Oh, sir ! delighted for himself, but still more delighted for 
his mother; for her joy was such as to astonish and even 
alarm me ! Before that I had thought Marah Rocke a proud 
woman, but ” 

“ What ! — say that again ! ” exclaimed Major Warfield. 

" I say that I thought she was a proud woman, but ” 

“Thought who was a proud woman, sir?” roared Old 
Hurricane. 

“ Marah Rocke ! ” replied the young man, with wonder. 

Major Warfield started up, seized the chair upon which he 
had sat and struck it upon the ground with such force as to 
shatter it to pieces ; then turning, he strode up and down the 


A STORM AT HURRICANE HALL. 81 

floor with such violence that the two young people gazed after 
him in consternation and fearful expectancy. Presently he 
turned suddenly, strode up to Herbert Greyson and stood 
before him. 

His face was purple, his veins swollen and they stood out 
upon his forehead like cords, his eyes were protruded and 
glaring, his mouth clenched until the grizzly gray mustache 
and beard were drawn in, his whole huge frame was quivering 
from head to foot. It was impossible to tell what passion — 
whether rage, grief or shame — the most possessed him, for all 
three seemed tearing his giant frame to pieces. 

For an instant he stood speechless, and Herbert feared that 
he would fall into a fit ; but the old giant was too strong for 
that ! For one short moment he stood thus, and in a terrible 
voice he asked : 

" Young man, did you — did you know — the shame that you 
dashed into my face with the name of that woman? ” 

“ Sir, I know nothing but that she is the best and dearest of 
her sex ! ” exclaimed Herbert, beyond all measure amazed at 
what he heard and saw. 

“ Best and dearest ! ” thundered the old man. " Oh, idiot ; 
is she still a siren, and are you a dupe ? But that cannot be ! 
No, sir ! it is I whom you both would dupe ! Ah, I see it all 
now ! This is why you artfully concealed her name from me 
until you had won my promise ! It shall not serve either 
you or her, sir ! I break my promise thus ! ” bending and 
snapping his own cane and flinging the fragments behind his 
back. “ There, sir ! when you can make those ends of dry 
cedar grow together again and bear green leaves, you may 
hope to reconcile Ira Warfield and Marah Rocke ! I break 
my promise, sir, as she broke ” 

The old man suddenly sank back into the nearest chair, 
dropped his shaggy head and face into his hands and re- 
mained trembling from head to foot, while the convulsive 
heaving of his chest and the rising and falling of his huge 
shoulders betrayed that his heart was nearly bursting with such 
suppressed sobs as only can be forced from manhood by the 
fiercest anguish. 

The young people looked on in wonder, awe and pity ; and 
then their eyes met — those of Herbert silently inquired : 

u What can all this mean?” Those of Capitola mutely 
answered : 

6 


82 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Heaven only knows ! ” 

In his deep pity for the old man’s terrible anguish, Herbert 
could feel no shame or resentment for the false accusation 
made upon himself. Indeed, his noble and candid nature 
easily explained all as the ravings of some heartrending re- 
membrance. Waiting, therefore, until the violent convulsions 
of the old man’s frame had somewhat subsided, Herbert went 
to him, and with a low and respectful inflection of voice, 
said : 

“ Uncle, if you think that there was any collusion between 
myself and Mrs. Rocke you wrong us both. You will remem- 
ber that when I met you in New York I had not seen or heard 
from her for years, nor had I then any expectation of ever 
seeing you. The subject of the poor widow came up between 
us accidentally, and if it is true that I omitted to call her by 
name it must have been because we both then felt too ten- 
derly by her to call her anything else but * the poor widow, 
the poor mother, the good woman,’ and so on — and all this 
she is still.” 

The old man, without raising his head, held out one hand 
to his nephew, saying in a voice still trembling with emotion : 

“ Herbert, I wronged you ; forgive me.” 

Herbert took and pressed that rugged and hairy old hand 
to his lips, and said : 

“ Uncle, I do not in the least know what is the cause of 
your present emotion, but ” 

“Emotion ! Demmy, sir, what do you mean by emotion? 
Am I a man to give way to emotion? Demmy, sir, mind 
what you say ! ” roared the old lion, getting up and shaking 
himself free of all weaknesses. 

“ I merely meant to say, sir, that if I could possibly be of 
any service to you I am entirely at your orders.” 

“ Then go back to that woman and tell her never to dare to 
utter, or even to think of, my name again, if she values her 
life ! ” 

“ Sir, you do not mean it ! and as for Mrs. Rocke, she is a 
good woman I feel it my duty to uphold ! ” 

“ Good ! ugh ! ugh ! ugh ! I’ll command myself ! I’ll not 
give way again ! Good ! ah, lad, it is quite plain to me now 
that you are an innocent dupe. Tell me now, for instance, do 
you know anything of that woman’s life before she came to re- 
side at Staunton? ” 


A STORM AT HURRICANE HALL. 83 

u Nothing ; but from what I’ve seen of her since I’m sure 
she always was good.” 

11 Did she never mention her former life at all? ” 

“ Never; but, mind, I hold to my faith in her, and would 
stake my salvation on her integrity,” said Herbert, warmly. 

“ Then you’d lose it, lad, that’s all ; but I have an explana- 
tion to make to you, Herbert. You must give me a minute 
or two of your company alone, in the library, before tea.” 

And so saying, Major Warfield arose and led the way across 
the hall to the library, that was immediately back of the back 
drawing-room. 

Throwing himself into a leathern chair beside the writing- 
table, he motioned for his companion to tak^e the one on the 
opposite side. A low fire smoldering on the hearth before 
them so dimly lighted the room that the young man arose 
again to pull the bell rope ; but the other interrupted with : 

“ No, you need not ring for lights, Herbert ! my story is 
one that should be told in the dark. Listen, lad ; but drop 
your eyes the while.” 

“ I am all attention, sir ! ” 

“ Herbert, the poet says that — 

* “ At thirty man suspects himself a fool, 

Knows it at forty and reforms his rule.’ 

“ But, boy, at the ripe age of forty-five, I succeeded in 
achieving the most sublime folly of my life. I should have 
taken a degree in madness and been raised to a professor’s 
chair in some college of lunacy ! Herbert, at the age of forty- 
five I fell in love with and married a girl of sixteen out of a 
log cabin ! merely, forsooth, because she had a pearly skin 
like the leaf of the white japonica, soft gray eyes like a timid 
fawn’s and a voice like a cooing turtle dove’s ! because those 
delicate cheeks flushed and those soft eyes fell when I spoke 
to her, and the cooing voice trembled when she replied ! 
because the delicate face brightened when I came and faded 
when I turned away ! because— 

• “ She wept with delight when I gave her a smile, 

And trembled with fear at my frown,’ etc. ; 

because she adored me as a sort of god, I loved her as an angel 
and married her — married her secretly, for fear of the ridicule 


8 4 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


of my brother officers, put her in a pastoral log cabin in the 
woods below the block-house and visited her there by stealth, 
like Numa did his nymph in the cave. But I was watched ; 
my hidden treasure was discovered and coveted by a younger 
and prettier follow than myself. Perdition ! I cannot tell 
this story in detail ! One night I came home very late and 
quite unexpectedly and found — this man in my wife’s cabin ! 
I broke the man’s head and ribs and left him for dead. I tore 
the woman out of my heart and cauterized its bleeding 
wounds. This man was Gabriel Le Noir ! Satan burn him 
forever ! This woman was Marah Rocke, God forgive her ! I 
could have divorced the woman, but as I did not dream of 
ever marrying again, I did not care to drag my shame before 
a public tribunal. There ! You know all ! Let the subject 
sink forever ! ” said Old Hurricane, wiping great drops of 
sweat from his laboring brows. 

“ Uncle, I have heard your story and believe you, of course. 
But I am bound to tell you that without even having heard 
your poor wife’s defense, I believe and uphold her to be in- 
nocent ! I think you have been as grossly deceived as she 
has been fearfully wronged ! and that time and Providence 
will prove this ! ” exclaimed Herbert, fervently. 

A horrible laugh of scorn was his only answer as Old Hur- 
ricane arose, shook himself and led the way back to the 
parlor. 


CHAPTER XII. 

marah’s dream. 

And now her narrow kitchen walls 
Stretched away into stately halls ; 

The weary wheel to a spinnet turned, 

The tallow candle an astral burned ; 

A manly form at her side she saw, 

And joy was duty and love was law. 

— Whittier. 

On the same Saturday morning that Herbert Greyson hur- 
ried away from his friend’s cottage, to travel post to Hurricane 
Hall, for the sole purpose of accelerating the coming of her 
good fortune, Marah Rocke walked about the house with a 
step so light, with eyes so bright and cheeks so blooming, that 


MARAH’S DREAM. 85 

one might have thought that years had rolled backward in 
their course and made her a young girl again. 

Traverse gazed upon her in delight. Reversing the words 
of the text, he said : 

“ We must call you no longer Marah (which is bitter), but 
we must call you Naomi (which is beautiful), mother ! ” 

“ Young flatterer ! ” she answered, smiling and slightly 
flushing. “ But tell me truly, Traverse, am I very much 
faded? Have care and toil and grief made me look old? ” 

“ You old?” exclaimed the boy, running his eyes over her 
beaming face and graceful form with a look of non-compre- 
hension that might have satisfied her, but did not, for she im- 
mediately repeated : 

“ Yes; do I look old? Indeed I do not ask from vanity, 
child? Ah, it little becomes me to be vain; but I do wish to 
look well in some one’s eyes.” 

“ I wish there was a looking-glass in the house, mother, 
that it might tell you ; you should be called Naomi instead of 
Marah.” 

“ Ah ! that is just what he used to say to me in the old, 
happy time — the time in Paradise, before the serpent en- 
tered ! ” 

" What ‘ he,’ mother? ’' 

“ Your father, boy, of course.” 

That was the first time she had ever mentioned his father 
to her son, and now she spoke of him with such a flush of joy 
and hope that even while her words referred darkly to the 
past, her eyes looked brightly to the future. All this, taken 
with the events of the preceding evening, greatly bewildered 
the mind of Traverse and agitated him with the wildest con- 
jectures. 

“ Mother, will you tell me about my father, and also what 
it is beyond this promised kindness of Major Warfield that has 
made you so happy ? ” he asked. 

“ Not now, my boy; dear boy, not now. I must not — I 
cannot — I dare not yet ! Wait a few days and you shall know 
all. Oh, it is hard to keep a secret from my boy ! but then 
it is not only my secret, but another’s ! You do not think 
hard of me for withholding it now, do you, Traverse?” she 
asked, affectionately. 

“ No, dear mother, of course I don’t. I know you must 
be right, and I am glad to see you happy.” 


86 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Happy ! Oh, boy, you don’t know how happy I am ! I 
did not think any human being could ever feel so joyful in this 
erring world, much less me ! One cause of this excess of 
joyful feeling must be from the contrast ; else it were dreadful 
to be so happy.” 

“ Mother, I don’t know what you mean,” said Traverse un- 
easily, for he was too young to understand these paradoxes of 
feeling and thought, and there were moments when he feared 
for his mother’s reason. 

“ Oh, Traverse, think of it ! eighteen long, long years of 
estrangement, sorrow and dreadful suspense ! eighteen long, 
long, weary years of patience against anger and loving against 
hatred and hoping against despair ! your young mind cannot 
grasp it ! your very life is not so long ! I was seventeen then ; 
I am thirty-five now. And after wasting all my young years 
of womanhood in loving, hoping, longing — lo ! the light of life 
has dawned at last ! ” 

“ God save you, mother ! ” said the boy, fervently, for her 
wild, unnatural joy continued to augment his anxiety. 

“ Ah, Traverse, I dare not tell you the secret now, and yet 
I am always letting it out, because my heart overflows from 
its fulness. Ah, boy ! many, many weary nights have I lain 
awake from grief ; but last night I lay awake from joy 1 
Think of it ! ” 

The boy’s only reply to this was a deep sigh. He was be- 
coming seriously alarmed. “ I never saw her so excited ! I 
wish she would get calm,” was his secret thought. Then, with 
the design of changing the current of her ideas, he took of? 
his coat and said : 

“ Mother, my pocket is half torn out, and though there’s no 
danger of my losing a great deal out of it, still I’ll get you, 
please, to sew it in while I mend the fence ! ” 

“ Sew the pocket ! mend the fence ! Well ! ” smiled Mrs. 
Rocke ; “ we’ll do so if it will amuse you. The mended fence 
will be a convenience to the next tenant, and the patched coat 
will do for some poor boy. Ah, Traverse, we must be very 
good to the poor, in more ways than in giving them what we 
do not ourselves need, for we shall know what it is to have 
been poor,” she concluded, in more serious tones than she had 
yet used. 

Traverse was glad of this, and went out to his work feeling 
somewhat better satisfied. 


MARAH’S DREAM. 


87 

The delirium of happiness lasted intermittently a whole 
week, during the last three days of which Mrs. Rocke was con- 
stantly going to the door and looking up the road, as if expect- 
ing some one. The mail came from Tip-Top to Staunton 
only once a week — on Saturday mornings. Therefore, when 
Saturday came again, she sent her son to the post-office, say- 
ing : 

“ If they do not come to-day they will surely write.” 

Traverse hastened with all his speed, and got there so soon 
that he had to wait for the mail to be opened. 

Meanwhile, at home the widow walked the floor in restless, 
joyous anticipation, or went to the door and strained her eyes 
up the road to watch for Traverse, and perhaps for some one 
else’s coming. At last she discerned her son, who came down 
the road walking rapidly, smiling triumphantly and holding a 
letter up to view. 

She ran out of the gate to meet him, seized and kissed the 
letter, and then, with her face burning, her heart palpitating 
and her fingers trembling, she hastened into the house, threw 
herself into the little low chair by the fire and opened the 
letter. It was from Herbert, and read thus : 

“ Hurricane Hall, Nov. 30th, 1843. 

“ My Dearest and Best Mrs. Rocke — May God strengthen 
you to read the few bitter lines I have to write. Most unhap- 
pily, Major Warfield did not know exactly who you were when, 
he promised so much. Upon learning your name he withdrew 
all his promises. , At night, in his library, he told me all your 
early history. Having heard all, the very worst, I believe you 
as pure as an angel. So I told him ! So I would uphold 
with my life and seal with my death ! Trust yet in God, and 
believe in the earnest respect and affection of your grateful 
and attached son, 

“ Herbert Greyson. 

“ P. S. — For henceforth I shall call you mother.” 

Quietly she finished reading, pressed the letter again to her 
lips, reached it to the fire, saw it like her hopes shrivel up to 
ashes, and then she arose, and with her trembling fingers 
clinging together, walked up and down the floor. 

There were no tears in her eyes, but, oh ! such a look of 
unutterable woe on her pale, blank, despairing face ! 


88 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


Traverse watched her and saw that something had gone 
frightfully wrong ; that some awful revolution of fate or revul- 
sion of feeling had passed over her in this dread hour ! 

Cautiously he approached her, gently he laid his hand upon 
her shoulder, tenderly he whispered : 

<* Mother ! ” 

She turned and looked strangely at him, then exclaiming : 

“ Oh, Traverse, how happy I was this day week ! ” She 
burst into a flood of tears. 

Traverse threw his arm around his mother’s waist and half 
coaxed and half bore her to her low chair and sat her in it 
and knelt by her side and, embracing her fondly, whispered : 

“ Mother, don’t weep so bitterly ! You have me; am I 
nothing? Mother, I love you more than son ever loved his 
mother, or suitor his sweetheart, or husband his wife ! Oh ! 
is my love nothing, mother? ” 

Only sobs answered him. 

“ Mother,” he pleaded, “ you are all the world to me ; let 
me be all the world to you ! I can be it, mother ; I can be 
it ; try me ! I will make every effort for my mother, and the 
Lord will bless us ! ” 

Still no answer but convulsive sobs. 

“ Oh, mother, mother ! I will try to do for you more 
than ever son did for mother or man for woman before ! 
Dear mother, if you will not break my heart by weeping so ! ” 

The sobbing abated a little, partly from exhaustion and 
partly from the soothing influences of the boy’s loving words. 

“ Listen, dear mother, what I will do ! In the olden times 
of chivalry, young knights bound themselves by sacred vows 
to the service of some lady, and labored long and perilously 
in her honor. For her, blood was spilled ; for her, fields 
were won ; but, mother, never yet toiled knight in the battle- 
field for his lady-love as I will in the battle of life for my 
dearest lady — my own mother ! ” 

She reached out her hand and silently pressed his. 

“ Come, come,” said Traverse ; “ lift up your head and 
smile ! We are young yet — both you and I ! for, after all, 
you are not much older than your son; and we two will 
journey up and down the hills of life together — all in all to 
each other; and when at last we are old, as we shall be 
when you are seventy-seven and I am sixty, we will leave all 
our fortune that we shall have made to found a home for 


MARAH’S DREAM. 8c 

widows and orphans, as we were, and we will pass out and go 
to heaven together.” 

Now, indeed, this poor, modern Hagar looked up and 
smiled at the oddity of her Ishmael’s far-reaching thought. 

In that poor household grief might not be indulged. Marah 
Rocke took down her work-basket and sat down to finish a 
lot of shirts, and Traverse went out with his horse and saw 
to look for a job at cutting wood for twenty-five cents a cord. 
Small beginnings of the fortune that was to found and endow 
asylums ! but many a fortune has been commenced upon less ! 

Marah Rocke had managed to dismiss her boy with a smile, 
but that was the last effort of nature ; as soon as he was gone 
and she found herself alone, tear after tear welled up in her 
eyes and rolled down her pale cheeks ; sigh after sigh heaved 
her bosom. 

Ah ! the transitory joy of the past week had been but the 
lightning’s arrowy course scathing where it illumined ! 

She felt as if this last blow that had struck her down from 
the height of hope to the depth of despair had broken her 
heart, as if the power of reaction was gone, and she mourned 
as one who would not be comforted. 

While she sat thus the door opened, and before she was 
aware of his presence, Herbert Greyson entered the room and 
came softly to her side. Ere she could speak to him he 
dropped upon one knee at her feet and bowed his young head 
lowly over the hand that he took and pressed to his lips. 
Then he arose and stood before her. This was not unnatural 
or exaggerated ; it was his way of expressing the reverential 
sympathy and compassion he felt for her strange, life-long 
martyrdom. 

“ Herbert, you here ? Why, we only got your letter this 
morning,” she said, in tones of gentle inquiry, as she arose 
and placed a chair for him. 

“Yes, I could not bear to stay away from you at such a 
time ; I came up in the same mail-coach that brought my 
letter ; but I kept myself out of Traverse’s sight, for I could 
not bear to intrude upon you in the first hour of your dis- 
appointment,” said Herbert, in a broken voice. 

“ Oh, that need not have kept you away, dear boy ! I did 
not cry much ; I am used to trouble, you know ; I shall get 
over this also — after a little while— and things will go on in 
the old way,” said Marah Rocke, struggling to repress the 


9 o 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


rising emotion that, however, overcame her, for, dropping her 
head upon her “ sailor boy’s ” shoulder, she burst into a flood 
of tears and wept plenteously. 

“ Dear mother, be comforted ! ” he said ; “ dear mother, 
be comforted ! ” 


CHAPTER XIII. 
marah’s memories. 

In the shade of the apple-tree again 
She saw a rider draw his rein, 

And gazing down with a timid grace, 

She felt his pleased eyes read her face. 

— Whittier. 

“ Dear Marah, I cannot understand your strong attachment 
to that bronzed and grizzled old man, who has, besides, treated 
you so barbarously,” said Herbert. 

“ Is he bronzed and gray? ” asked Marah, looking up with 
gentle pity in her eyes and tone. 

“Why, of course he is. He is sixty-two.” 

“ He was forty-five when I first knew him, and he was very 
handsome then. At least, I thought him the very perfec- 
tion of manly strength and beauty and goodness. True, it 
was the mature, warm beauty of the Indian summer, for he 
was more than middle-aged ; but it was very genial to the 
chilly, loveless morning of my own early life,” said Marah, 
dropping her head upon her hand and sliding into reminis- 
cences of the past. 

“ Dear Marah, I wish you would tell me all about your mar- 
riage and misfortunes,” said Herbert, in a tone of the deepest 
sympathy and respect. 

“Yes, he was very handsome,” continued Mrs. Rocke, 
speaking more to herself than to her companion ; “ his form 
was tall, full and stately ; his complexion warm, rich and glow- 
ing ; his fine face was lighted up by a pair of strong, dark- 
gray eyes, full of fire and tenderness, and was surrounded by 
waving masses of jet-black hair and whiskers ; they are gray 
now, you say, Herbert? ” 

“ Gray and grizzled, and bristling up around his hard face 
like thorn- bushes around a rock in winter 1 ” said Herbert, 


MARAH’S MEMORIES. 


9i 

bluntly, for it enraged his honest but inexperienced boyish 
heart to hear this wronged woman speak so enthusiastically. 

“ Ah ! it is winter with him now ; but then it was glorious 
Indian summer ! He was a handsome, strong and ardent 
man. i was a young, slight, pale girl, with no beauty but the 
cold and colorless beauty of a statue ; with no learning but 
such as 1 had picked up from a country school ; with no love 
to bless my lonely life — for I was a friendless orphan, without 
either parents or relatives, and living by sufferance in a cold 
and loveless home.” 

“ Poor girl ! ” murmured Herbert, in almost inaudible tones. 

“Our log cabin stood beside the military road leading 
through the wilderness to the fort where he was stationed. 
And, oh ! when he came riding by each day upon his noble, 
coal-black steed and in his martial uniform, looking so vigor- 
ous, handsome and kingly, he seemed to me almost a god to 
worship ! Sometimes he drew rein in front of the old oak 
tree that stood in front of our cabin to breathe his horse or to 
ask for a draught of water. I used to bring it to him. Oh ! 
then, when he looked at me, his eyes seemed to send new 
warmth to my chilled heart ; when he spoke, too, his tones 
seemed to strengthen me ; while he stayed his presence 
seemed to protect me ! ” 

“ Aye, such protection as vultures give to doves — covering 
and devouring them,” muttered Herbert to himself. Mrs. 
Rocke, too absorbed in her reminiscences to heed his inter- 
ruptions, continued : 

“ One day he asked me to be his wife. I do not know 
what I answered. I only know that when I understood what 
he meant, my heart trembled with instinctive terror at its own 
excessive joy ! We were privately married by the chaplain at 
the fort. There were no accommodations for the wives of 
officers there. And, besides, my husband did not wish to 
announce our marriage until he was ready to take me to his 
princely mansion in Virginia.” 

“ Humph ! ” grunted Herbert inwardly, for comment. 

“ But he built for me a pretty cabin in the woods below the 
fort, furnished it simply and hired a half-breed Indian woman 
to wait on me. Oh, I was too happy ! To my wintry spring 
of life summer had come, warm, rich and beautiful ! There is 
a clause in the marriage service which enjoins the husband to 
cherish his wife. I do not believe many people ever stop to 


92 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


think how much is in that word. He did ; he cherished mr 
little, thin, chill, feeble life until I became strong, warm and 
healthful. Oh ! even as the blessed sun warms and animates 
and glorifies the earth, causing it to brighten with life and 
blossom with flowers and bloom with fruit, so did my husband 
enrich and cherish and bless my life ! Such happiness could 
not and it did not last ! ” 

“Of course not 1 ” muttered Herbert to himself. 

“At first the fault was in myself. Yes, Herbert it was ! you 
need not look incredulous or hope to cast all the blame on 
him ! Listen : Happy, grateful, adoring as I was, I was also 
shy, timid and bashful — never proving the deep love I bore 
my husband except by the most perfect self-abandonment to 
his will. All this deep, though quiet, devotion he understood 
as mere passive obedience void of love. As this continued he 
grew uneasy, and often asked me if I cared for him at all, or 
if it were possible for a young girl like me to love an old man 
like himself.” 

“ A very natural question,” thought Herbert. 

“Well, I used to whisper in answer, ‘Yes/ and still ‘Yes.’ 
But this never satisfied Major Warfield. One day, when he 
asked me if I cared for him the least in the world, I sud- 
denly answered that if he were to die I should throw myself 
across his grave and lie there until death should release me ! 
whereupon he broke into a loud laugh, saying, * Me thinks the 
lady doth protest too much.’ I was already blushing deeply 
at the unwonted vehemence of my own words, although I had 
spoken only as I felt — the very, very truth. But his laugh and 
his test so increased my confusion that, in fine, that was the 
first and last time I ever did protest ! Like Lear’s Cordelia, I 
was tongue-tied — I had no words to assure him. Sometimes 
I wept to think how poor I was in resources to make him 
happy Then came another annoyance — my name and fame 
were freely discussed at the fort.” 

“A natural consequence,” sighed Herbert. 

“ The younger officers discovered my woodland home, and 
often stole out to reconnoitre my calm. Among them was 
Captain Le Noir, who, after he had discovered my retreat, 
picked acquaintance with Lura, my attendant. Making the 
woodland sports his pretext, he haunted the vicinity of my 
cabin, often stopping at the door to beg a cup of water, which, 
of course, was never denied, or else to offer a bunch of par- 


MARAH’S MEMORIES. 


93 


tridges or a brace of rabbits or some other game, the sports of 
his gun, which equally, of course, was never accepted. One 
beautiful morning in June, finding my cabin door open and 
myself alone, he ventured unbidden across my threshold, and 
by his free conversation and bold admiration offended and 
alarmed me. Some days afterward, in the mess-room at the 
fort, being elevated by wine, he boasted among his messmates 
of the intimate terms of friendly acquaintance upon which he 
falsely asserted that he had the pleasure of standing with ‘ War- 
field’s pretty little favorite,’ as he insolently called me. When 
my husband heard of this I learned for the first time the terri- 
fic violence of his temper. It was awful ! it frightened me 
almost to death. There was a duel, of course. Le Noir was 
very dangerously wounded, scarred across the face for life, and 
was confined many weeks to his bed. Major Warfield was also 
slightly hurt and laid up at the fort for a few days, during 
which I was not permitted to see him.” 

“ Is it possible that even then he did not see your danger 
and acknowledge your marriage and call you to his bedside? ” 
inquired Herbert, impatiently. 

“ No, no 1 if he had all after suffering had been spared. No ! 
at the end of four days he came back to me ; but we met only 
for bitter reproaches on his part and sorrowful tears on mine. 
He charged me with coldness, upon account of the disparity 
in our years, and of the preference for Captain Le Noir, be- 
cause he was a pretty fellow.’ I knew this was not true of 
me. I knew that I loved my husband’s very footprints better 
than I did the whole human race besides ; but I could not tell 
him so then. Oh, in those days, though my heart was so full, 
I had so little power of utterance ! There he stood before 
me ! he that had been so ruddy and buoyant, now so pale 
from loss of blood, and so miserable, that I could have fallen 
and groveled at his feet in sorrow and remorse at not being 
able to make him happy ! ” 

“ There are some persons whom we can never make happy. 
It is not in them to be so,” commented Herbert. 

“ He made me promise never to see or to speak to Le Noir 
again — a promise eagerly given but nearly impossible to keep. 
My husband spent as much time with me as he possibly could 
spare from his military duties, and looked forward with im- 
patience to the autumn, when it was thought that he would be 
at liberty to take me home. He often used to tell me that 


94 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


we should spend our Christmas at his house, Hurricane Hall, 
and that I should play Lady Bountiful and distribute Christmas 
gifts to the negroes and that they would love me. And, oh ! 
with what joy I anticipated that time of honor and safety and 
careless ease, as an acknowledged wife, in the home of my 
husband ! There, too, I fondly believed, our child would be 
born. All his old tenderness returned for me, and I was as 
happy, if not as wildly joyful, as at first.” 

“ ’Twas but a lull in the storm,” said Herbert. 

“ Aye ! ’twas but a lull in the storm,” or, rather, before the 
storm ! I do think that from the time of that duel Le Noir 
had resolved upon our ruin. As soon as he was able to go 
out he haunted the woods around my cabin and continually 
lay in wait for me. I could not go out even in the company 
of my maid Lura to pick blackberries or wild plums or gather 
forest roses, or to get fresh water at the spring, without being 
intercepted by Le Noir and his offensive admiration. He 
seemed to be ubiquitous ! He met me everywhere — except 
in the presence of Major Warfield. I did not tell my husband, 
because I feared that if I did he would have killed Le Noir 
and died for the deed.” 

“ Humph ! it would have been * good riddance of bad 
rubbish’ in both cases,” muttered Herbert, under his 
teeth. 

“ But instead of telling him I confined myself strictly to my 
cabin. One fatal day my husband, on leaving me in the 
morning, said that I need not wait up for him at night, for 
that it would be very late when he came, even if he came at 
all. He kissed me very fondly when he went away. Alas ! 
alas ! it was the last — last time ! At night I went to bed dis- 
appointed, yet still so expectant that I could not sleep. I 
know not how long I had waited thus, or how late it was when 
I heard a tap at the outer door, and heard the bolt undrawn 
and a footstep enter and a low voice asking : 

“ Is she asleep? ” and Lura’s reply in the affirmative. Never 
doubting it was my husband, I lay there in pleased expectation 
of his entrance. He came in and began to take off his coat 
in the dark. I spoke, telling him that there were matches on 
the bureau. He did not reply, at which I was surprised ; but 
before I could repeat my words the outer door was burst 
violently open, hurried footsteps crossed the entry, a light 
flashed into my room, my husband stood in the door in full 


MARAH’S MEMORIES. 


95 

military uniform, with a light in his hand and the aspect of an 

avenging demon on his brow, and 

“ Horror upon horrors ! the half-undressed man in my 
chamber was Captain Le Noir ! I saw and swooned away ! ” 
“ But you were saved ! you were saved ! ” gasped Herbert, 
white with emotion. 

“ Oh, I was saved, but not from sorrow — not from shame 1 
I awoke from that deadly swoon to find myself alone, deserted, 
cast away ! Oh, torn out from the warmth and light and 
safety of my husband’s heart, and hurled forth shivering, faint 
and helpless upon the bleak world ! and all this in twenty-four 
hours. Ah, I did not lack the power of expression then ! 
happiness had never given it to me ! anguish conferred it upon 
me ; that one fell srtroke of fate cleft the rock of silence in my 
soul, and the fountain of utterance gushed freely forth ! I 
wrote to him, but my letters might as well have been dropped 
into a well. I went to him, but was spurned away. I prayed 
him with tears to have pity on our unborn babe; but he 
laughed aloud in scorn and called it by an opprobrious name ! 
Letters, prayers, tears, were all in vain. He never had ac- 
knowledged our marriage ; he now declared that he never 
would do so ; he discarded me, disowned my child and for- 
bade us ever to take his name ! ” 

“ Oh, Marah ! and you but seventeen years of age ! without 
a father or a brother or a friend in the world to employ an ad- 
vocate ! exclaimed Herbert, covering his face with his hands 
and sinking back. 

“ Nor would I have used any of these agencies had I pos- 
sessed them ! If my wifehood and motherhood, my affections 
and my helplessness were not advocates strong enough to win 
my cause, I could not have borne to employ others ! ” 

“ Oh, Marah, with none to pity or to help ; it was mon- 
strous to have abandoned you so ! ” 

“No; hush! consider the overwhelming evidence against 
me ; I considered it even in the tempest and whirlwind of my 
anguish, and never once blamed and never once was angry 
with my husband ; for I knew — not he, but the terrible cir- 
cumstantial evidence had ruined me!” 

“Ay, but did you not explain it to him? ” 

“ How could I, alas ! when I did not understand it myself? 
How Le Noir knew that Major Warfield was not expected 
home that fatal night — how he got into my house, whether by 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


96 

conspiring with my little maid or by deceiving her — or, lastly, 
how Major Warfield came to burst in upon him so suddenl), 
I did not know, and do not to this day.” 

“But you told Major Warfield all that you have told 
me? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! again and again, calling heaven to witness my 
truth ! In vain ! he had seen with his own eyes, he said. 
Against all I could say or do there was built up a wall of 
scornful incredulity, on which I might have dashed my brains 
out to no purpose.” 

“ Oh, Marah, Marah ! with none to pity or to save ! ” again 
exclaimed Herbert. 

“ Yes,” said the meek creature, bowing her head ; “ God 
pitied and helped me ! First he sent me a son that grew 
strong and handsome in body, good and wise in soul. Then 
He kept alive in my heart faith and hope and charity. He 
enabled me, through long years of unremitting and ill-requited 
toil, to live on, loving against anger, waiting against time, and 
hoping against despair ! ” 

“Why did you leave your western home and come to 
Staunton, Marah?” asked Herbert. 

“To be where I could sometimes hear of my husband with- 
out intruding on him. I took your widowed mother in, be- 
cause she was his sister, though I never told her who I was, 
lest she should wrong and scorn me, as he had done. When 
she died I cherished you, Herbert, first because you were his 
nephew, but now, dear boy, for your own sake also.” 

“ And I, while I live, will be a son to you, madam ! I will 
be your constant friend at Hurricane Hall. He talks of mak- 
ing me his heir. Should he persist in such blind injustice, the 
day I come into the property I shall turn it all over to his 
widow and son. But I do not believe that he will persist ; I, 
for my part, still hope for the best.” 

“ I also hope for the best, for whatever God wills is sure to 
happen, and His will is surely the best ! Yes, Herbert, I also 
hope — beyond the grave ! ” said Marah Rocke, with a wan 
smile. 

The little clock that stood between the tall, plated candle- 
sticks on the mantelpiece struck twelve, and Marah rose from 
her seat, saying : 

“ Traverse, poor fellow, will be home to his dinner. Not 
a word to him, Herbert, please ! I do not wish the poor lad 


THE WASTING HEART. 


97 

to know how much he has lost, and above all, I do not wish 
him to be prejudiced against his father.” 

“ You are right, Marah,” said Herbert, “ for if he were told, 
the natural indignation that your wrongs would arouse in his 
heart would totally unfit him to meet his father in a proper 
spirit in that event for which I still hope — a future and a per- 
fect family umion ! ” 

****** 

Herbert Greyson remained a week with his friends, during 
which time he paid the quarter’s rent, and relieved his adopted 
mother of that cause of anxiety. Then he took leave and de- 
parted for Hurricane Hall, on his way to Washington City, 
where he was immediately going to pass his examination and 
await his appointment. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE WASTING HEART. 

Then she took up the burden of life again, 

Saying only, “ It might have been.” 

Alas for them both, alas for us all, 

Who vainly the dreams of youth recall ; 

For of all sad words of lips, or pen, 

The saddest are these — “ It might have been.” 

—Whittier. 

By the tacit consent of all parties, the meteor hope that 
had crossed and vanished from Marah Rocke’s path of life 
was never mentioned again. Mother and son went about 
their separate tasks. Traverse worked at jobs all day, studied 
at night and went twice a week to recite his lessons to his 
patron, Doctor Day, at Willow Hill. Marah sewed as usual 
all day, and prepared her boy’s meals at the proper times. 
But day by day her cheeks grew paler, her form thinner, her 
step fainter. Her son saw this decline with great alarm 
Sometimes he found her in a deep, troubled reverie, from 
which she would awaken with heavy sighs. Sometimes he 
surprised her in tears. At such times he did not trouble her 
with questions that he instinctively felt she could not or would 
not answer ; but he came gently to her side, put his arms 
about her neck, stooped and laid her face against his breast 
and whispered assurances of “ his true love ” and his boyish 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


98 

hopes of “getting on,” of “making a fortune” and bringing 
“ brighter days ” for her. 

And she would return his caresses, and with a faint smile 
reply that he “must not mind” her, that she was only “a 
little low-spirited,” that she would “ get over it soon.” 

But as day followed day, she grew visibly thinner and 
weaker ; dark shadows settled under her hollow eyes and in 
her sunken cheeks. One evening, while standing at the table 
washing up their little tea service, she suddenly dropped into 
her chair and fainted. Nothing could exceed the alarm and 
distress of poor Traverse. He hastened to fix her in an easy 
position, bathed her face in vinegar and water, the only restor- 
atives in their meager stock, and called upon her by every 
loving epithet to live and speak to him. The fit yielded to 
his efforts, and presently, with a few fluttering inspirations, 
her breath returned and her eyes opened. Her very first 
words were attempts to reassure her dismayed boy. But 
Traverse could no more be flattered. He entreated his 
mother to go at once to bed. And though the next morning, 
when she arose, she looked not worse than usual, Traverse left 
home with a heart full of trouble. But instead of turning 
down the street to go to his work in the town he turned up 
the street toward the wooded hills beyond, now glowing in 
their gorgeous autumn foliage and burning in the brilliant 
morning sun. 

A half-hour’s walk brought him to a high and thickly 
wooded hill, up which a private road led through a thicket of 
trees to a handsome graystone country seat, situated in the 
midst of beautifully ornamented grounds and known as Willow 
Heights, the residence of Dr. William Day, a retired physician 
of great repute, and a man of earnest piety. He was a 
widower with one fair daughter, Clara, a girl of fourteen, then 
absent at boarding-school. Traverse had never seen this girl, 
but his one great admiration was the beautiful Willow Heights 
and its worthy proprietor. He opened the highly ornate iron 
gate and entered up an avenue of willows that led up to the 
house, a two-storied edifice of graystone, with full-length front 
piazzas above and below. 

Arrived at the door he rang the bell, which was answered 
promptly by a good-humored-looking negro boy, who at once 
showed Traverse to the library up-stairs, where the good 
doctor sat at his books. Dr. Day was at this time about fifty 


THE WASTING HEART. 


years of age, tall and stoutly built, with a fine head and face, 
shaded by soft, bright flaxen hair and beard : thoughtful and 
kindly dark-blue eyes, and an earnest, penetrating smile that 
reached like sunshine the heart of any one upon whom it 
shone. He wore a cheerful-looking flowered chintz dressing- 
gown corded around his waist ; his feet were thrust into em- 
broidered slippers, and he sat in his elbow-chair at his reading- 
table poring over a huge folio volume. The whole aspect of 
the man and of his surroundings was kindly cheerfulness. The 
room opened upon the upper front piazza, and the windows 
were all up to admit the bright, morning sun and genial air, 
at the same time that there was a glowing fire in the grate to 
temper its chilliness. Traverse’s soft step across the carpeted 
floor was not heard by the doctor, who was only made aware 
of his presence by his stepping between the sunshine and his 
table. Then the doctor arose, and with his intense smile ex- 
tended his hand and greeted the boy with : 

“Well, Traverse, lad, you are always welcome ! I did not 
expect you until night, as usual, but as you are here, so 
much the better. Got your exercises all ready, eh? Heaven 
bless you, lad, what is the matter?” inquired the good 
man, suddenly, on first observing the boy’s deeply troubled 
looks. 

“ My mother six ! my mother ! ” was all that Traverse could 
at first utter. 

“Your mother! My dear lad, what about her? Is she 
ill?” inquired the doctor, with interest. 

“ Oh, sir, I am afraid she is going to die ? ” exclaimed the 
boy in a choking voice, struggling hard to keep from betraying 
his manhood by bursting into tears. 

“ Going to die ! Oh, pooh, pooh, pooh ! she is not going 
to die, lad. Tell me all about it,” said the doctor in an en- 
encouraging tone. 

“ She has had so much grief and care and anxiety, sir — 
doctor, is there any such malady as a broken heart?” 

“ Broken heart ? Pooh, pooh ! no, my child, no ! never 
heard of such a thing in thirty years* medical experience ! 
Even that story of a porter who broke his heart trying to lift 
a ton of stone is all a fiction. No such a disease as a broken 
heart. But tell me about your mother.” 

“ It is of her that I am talking. She has had so much 
trouble in her life, and now I think she is sinking under it ; 


lOO 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


she has been failing for weeks, and last night while washing 
the teacups she fainted away from the table ! ” 

“ Heaven help us ! that looks badly,” said the doctor. 

“Oh, does it? — does it, sir? She said it was ‘nothing 
much.’ Oh, doctor, don’t say she will die — don’t ! If she 
were to die, if mother were to die, I’d give right up ! I never 
should do a bit of good in the world, for she is all the motive 
I have in this life ! To study hard, to work hard and make 
her comfortable and happy, so as to make up to her for all 
she has suffered, is my greatest wish and endeavor ! Oh, 
don’t say mother will die! it would ruin me !” cried Traverse. 

“ My dear boy, I don’t say anything of the sort ! I say, 
judging from your account, that her health must be attended 
to immediately. And — true I have retired from practice, but 
I will go and see your mother, Traverse.” 

“Oh, sir, if you only would ! I came to ask you to do that 
very thing. I should not have presumed to ask such a favor 
for any cause but this of my dear mother’s life and health, 
and — you will go to see her? ” 

“Willingly and without delay, Traverse,” said the good 
man, rising immediately and hurrying into an adjoining 
chamber. 

“ Order the gig while I dress, Traverse, and I will take 
you back with me,” he added, as he closed the chamber door 
behind him. 

By the time Traverse had gone down, given the necessary 
orders and returned to the library the doctor emerged from 
his chamber, buttoned up his gray frock-coat and booted, 
gloved and capped for the ride. 

They went down together, entered the gig and drove rapidly 
down the willow avenue, slowly through the iron gate and 
through the dark thicket and down the wooded hill to the high 
road, and then as fast as the sorrel mare could trot toward 
town. In fifteen minutes the doctor pulled up his gig at the 
right-hand side of the road before the cottage gate. 

They entered the cottage, Traverse going first in order to 
announce the doctor. They found Mrs. Rocke, as usual, 
seated in her low chair by the little fire, bending over her 
needlework. She looked up with surprise as they came in. 

“ Mother, this is Doctor Day, come to see you,” said Tra- 
verse. 

She arose from her chair and raised those soft and timid 


THE WASTING HEART. 


10 1 


dark gray eyes to the stranger’s face, where they met that sweet,, 
intense smile that seemed to encourage while it shone upon 
her. 

“ We have never met before, Mrs. Rocke, but we both feel 
too much interest in this good lad here to meet as strangers 
now,” said the doctor, extending his hand. 

“ Traverse gives me every day fresh cause to be grateful to 
you, sir, for kindness that we can never, never repay,” said 
Marah Rocke, pressing that bountiful hand and then placing 
a chair, which the doctor took. 

Traverse seated himself at a little distance, and as the doc- 
tor conversed with and covertly examined his mother’s face he 
watched the doctor’s countenance as if life and death hung 
upon the character of its expression. But while they talked 
not one word was said upon the subject of sickness or medi- 
cine. They talked of Traverse. The doctor assured his 
mother that her boy was of such fine talent, character and 
promise, and that he had already made such rapid progress in 
his classical and mathematical studies, that he ought imme- 
diately to enter upon a course of reading for one of the learned 
professions. 

The mother turned a smile full of love, pride and sorrow 
upon the fine, intellectual face of her boy, and said : 

“ You are like the angel in Cole’s picture of life ! You 
point the youth to the far-up temple of fame ” 

“And leave him to get there as he can? Not at all, 
madam ! Let us see : Traverse, you are now going on eighteen 
years of age ; if you had your choice which of the learned 
professions would you prefer for yourself — law, physic or 
divinity ? ” 

The boy looked up and smiled, then dropped his head and 
w eemed to reflect. 

“ Perhaps you have never thought upon the subject. Well, 
you must take time, so as to be firm in your decision when you 
have once decided,” said the doctor. 

Oh, sir, I have thought of it long, and my choice has been 
long and firmly decided, were I only free to follow it.” 

“ Speak, lad ; what is your choice? ” 

“ Why, don’t you know, sir? Can’t you guess? Why, your 
own profession, of course, sir ! certainly, sir, I could not think 
of any other ! ” exclaimed the boy, with sparkling eyes and 
flushed cheeks. 


102 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ That’s my own lad ! ” exclaimed the doctor, enthusiastic* 
ally, seizing the boy’s hand with one of his and clapping the 
other down upon his palm — for if the doctor had an admira- 
tion in the world it was for his own profession. “ That’s my 
own lad ! My profession ! the healing art ! Why, it is the 
only profession worthy the study of an immortal being ! Law 
sets people by the ears together. Divinity should never be con- 
sidered as a profession — it is a divine mission ! Physic — phy- 
sic, my boy ! the healing art ! that’s the profession for you \ 
And I am very glad to hear you declare for it, too, for now the 
way is perfectly clear ! ” 

Both mother and son looked up in surprise. 

“ Yes, the way is perfectly clear ! Nothing is easier ! Tra. 
verse shall come and read medicine in my office ! I shall b& 
glad to have the lad there. It will amuse me to give him 
instruction occasionally. I have a positive mania for teach- 
ing ! ” 

“ And for doing good ! Oh, sir, how have we deserved this 
kindness at your hands, and how shall we ever, ever repay it? ” 
cried Mrs. Rocke, in a broken voice, while the tears filled her 
gentle eyes. 

“ Oh, pooh, pooh ! a mere nothing, ma’am ! a mere noth- 
ing for me to do, whatever it may prove to him. It is very 
hard, indeed, if I am to be crushed under a cart-load of thanks 
for doing something for a boy I like, when it does not cost me 
a cent of money or a breath of effort ! ” 

" Oh, sir, your generous refusal of our thanks does but 
deepen our obligation ! ” said Marah, still weeping. 

“ Now, my dear madam, will you persist in making me con- 
fess that it is all selfishness on my part ? I like the boy, I tell 
you ! I shall like his bright, cheerful face in my office ! I 

can make him very useful to me ; also ” 

“ Oh, sir, if you can and will only make him useful to 


“ Why, to be sure I can and will ! He can act as my clerk, 
keep my accounts, write my letters, drive out with me and sit 
in the rig while I go in to visit my patients, for though I have 

pretty much retired from practice, still ” 

“ Still you visit and prescribe for the sick poor, gratis ! ” 
added Marah, feelingly. 

“ Pooh, pooh ! habit, madam — habit ! ‘ ruling passion strong 
as death,’ etc. I can’t for the life of me keep from giving 


THE WASTING HEART. 


103 


people bread pills. And now, by the way, I must be off to 
see some of my patients in Staunton. Traverse, my lad — my 
young medical assistant, I mean — are you willing to go with 
me?” 

“ Oh, sir,” said the boy, and here his voice broke down with 
emotion. 

“ Come along, then,” laughed the doctor ; “ You shall 
drive with me into the village as a commencement.” 

Traverse got his hat, while the doctor held out his hand to 
Mrs. Rocke, who, with her eyes full of tears and her voice 
faltering with emotion, began again to thank him, when he 
good-humoredly interrupted her by saying : 

“ Now my good little woman, do pray, hush. I’m a selfish 
fellow, as you’ll see. I do nothing but what pleases my own 
self and makes me happy. Good-by ; God bless you, madam,” 
he said, cordially shaking her hand. “ Come, Traverse,” he 
added, hurriedly striding out of the door and through the yard 
to the gate, before which the old green gig and sorrel mare 
Were still waiting. 

“ Traverse, I brought you out again to-day more especially 
to speak of your mother and her state of health,” said Doctor 
Day, very seriously, as they both took their seats in the gig 
and drove on toward the town. “ Traverse, your mother is in 
no immediate danger of death ; in fact, she has no disease 
whatever.” 

“ Oh, sir, you do not think her ill, then ! I thought you 
did not, from the fact that you never felt her pulse or gave 
her a prescription,” exclaimed Traverse, delightedly, for in 
one thing the lad resembled his mother — he was sensitive and 
excitable — easily depressed and easily exhilarated. 

“ Traverse, I said your mother is in no immediate danger 
of death, for that, in fact, she has no disease ; but yet, Tra- 
verse, brace yourself up, for I am about to strike you a heavy 
blow. Traverse, Marah Rocke is starving ! ” 

“ Starving ! Heaven of heavens ! no ! that is not so ! it 
cannot be ! My mother starving ! oh, horrible ! horrible ! 
But, doctor, it cannot — cannot be ! Why, we have two meals 
a day at our house ! ” cried the boy, almost beside himself 
with agitation. 

“ Lad, there are other starvations besides the total lack of 
food. There are slow starvations and divers ones. Marah 
Rocke is starving slowly and in every way — mind, soul and 


104 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


body. Her body is slowly wasting from the want of proper 
nutriment, her heart from the want of human sympathy, her 
mind from the need of social intercourse. Her whole manner 
of life must be changed if she is to live at all.’ ’ 

“ Oh, sir, I understand you now. I feel, I feel that you 
speak the very truth. Something must be done. I must de 
something. What shall it be? Oh, advise me, sir.” 

“ I must reflect a little, Traverse,” said the doctor, thought- 
fully, as he drove along with very slack reins. 

“ And, oh, how thoughtless of me ! I forgot — indeed, I 
did, sir — when I so gladly accepted your offer for me to read 
with you. I forgot that if I spent every day reading in your 
office, my mother would sadly miss the dollar and a half a 
week I make by doing odd jobs in town.” 

“ But I did not forget it, boy ; rest easy upon that score ; 
and now let me reflect how we can best serve your good little 
mother,” said the doctor ; and he drove slowly and thought- 
fully along for about twenty minutes before he spoke again, 
when he said : 

“ Traverse, Monday is the first of the month. You shall set 
in with me then. Come to me, therefore, on Monday, and I 
think by that time I shall have thought upon some plan for 
your mother. In the mean time, you make as much money 
at jobs as you can, and also you must accept from me for her 
a bottle or so of port wine and a turkey or two. Tell her, if 
she demurs, that it is the doctor’s prescription, and that, for 
fear of accident, he always prefers to send his own physic.” 

“ Oh, Doctor Day, if I could only thank you aright ! ” eried 
Traverse. 

“ Pooh, pooh ! nonsense ! there is no time for it. Here we 
are at Spicer’s grocery store, where 1 suppose you are again 
employed. Yes? Well, jump out, then. You can still make 
half a day. Mind, remember on Monday next, December ist, 
you enter my office as my medical student, and by that time 
i shall have some plan arranged for your mother. Good-by ; 
God bless you, lad,” said the good doctor, as he drove off and 
left Traverse standing in the genial autumn sunshine, with his 
heart swelling and his eyes overflowing with excess of grati- 
tude and happiness. 


CAP’S COUNTRY CAPERS. 


105 


CHAPTER XV. 
cap’s country capers. 

" A willful elf — an uncle’s child, 

That half a pet and half a pest, 

Was still reproved, endured, caressed, 

Yet never tamed, though never spoiled.” 

Capitola at first was delighted and half incredulous at the 
great change in her fortunes. The spacious and comfortable 
mansion of which she found herself the little mistress ; the high 
rank of the veteran officer who claimed her as his war<} and 
niece ; the abundance, regularity and respectability of her new 
life ; the leisure, the privacy, the attendance of servants, were 
all so different from anything to which she had previously been 
accustomed that there were times when she doubted its reality 
and distrusted her own identity. 

Sometimes of a morning, after a very vivid dream of the 
alleys, cellars and gutters, ragpickers, newsboys, and beggars 
of New York, she would open her eyes upon her own com- 
fortable chamber, with its glowing fire and crimson curtains, 
and bright mirror crowning the walnut bureau between them, 
she would jump up and gaze wildly around, not remembering 
where she was or how she came thither. 

Sometimes, suddenly startled by an intense realization of 
the contrast between her past and her present life, she would 
mentally inquire : 

“ Can this be really I, myself, and not another ? I, the 
little houseless wanderer through the streets and alleys of New 
York? I, the little newsgirl in boy’s clothes? I, the 
wretched little vagrant that was brought up before the re- 
corder and was about to be sent to the House of Refuge for 
juvenile delinquents? Can this be I, Capitola, the little out- 
cast of the city, now changed into Miss Black, the young lady, 
perhaps the heiress of a fine old country seat ; calling a fine 
old military officer uncle ; having a handsome income of pocket 
money settled upon me ; having carriages and horses and serv- 
ants to attend me? No; it can’t be ! It’s just impossible ! 


IO 6 THE HIDDEN HAND. 

No; I see how it is. I’m crazy! that’s what I am, crazy! 
For, now I think of it, the last thing I remember of my former 
life was being brought before the recorder for wearing boy’s 
clothes. Now, I’m sure that it was upon that occasion that I 
went suddenly mad with trouble, and all the rest is a lunatic’s 
fancy ! This fine old country seat of which I vainly think 
myself the mistress, is just the pauper madhouse to which the 
magistrates have sent me. This fine old military officer whom 
I call uncle is the head doctor. The servants who come at 
my call are the keepers. 

“ There is no figure out of my past life in my present one 
except Herbert Greyson. But, pshaw ! he is not ‘ the nephew 
of his uncle ; ’ he is only my old comrade, Herbert Greyson, 
the sailor lad, who comes here to the madhouse to see me, and, 
out of compassion, humors all my fancies. 

“ I wonder how long they’ll keep me here? Forever, I 
hope. Until I get cured, I’m sure. I hope they won’t cure 
me ; I vow I won’t be cured. It’s a great deal too pleasant to 
be mad, and I’ll stay so. I’ll keep on calling myself Miss 
Black, and this madhouse my country seat, and the head 
doctor my uncle, and the keepers servants, until the end of 
time, so I will. Catch me coming to my senses, when it’s so 
delightful to be mad. I’m too sharp for that. I didn’t grow 
up in Rag Alley, New York, for nothing.” 

So, half in jest and half in earnest, Capitola soliloquized 
upon her change of fortune. 

Her education was commenced, but progressed rather „ 
irregularly. Old Hurricane bought her books and maps, slates 
and copy-books, set her lessons in grammar, geography and 
history, and made her write copies, do sums and read and 
recite lessons to him. Mrs. Condiment taught her the myster- 
ies of cutting and basting, back-stitching and felling, hem- 
ming and seaming. A pupil as sharp as Capitola soon mas- 
tered her tasks, and found herself each day with many hours 
of leisure with which she did not know what to do. 

These hours were at first occupied with exploring the old 
house, with all its attics, cuddies, cock-lofts and cellars ; then 
in wandering through the old ornamental grounds, that were, 
even in winter and in total neglect, beautiful with their wild 
growth of evergreens ; thence she extended her researches 
into the wild and picturesque country around. 

She was never weaiy of admiring the great forest that 


CAP’S COUNTRY CAPERS. 


107 


climbed the heights of the mountains behind their house ; the 
great bleak precipices of gray rock seen through the leafless 
branches of the trees; the rugged falling ground that lay be- 
fore the house and between it and the river ; and the river 
itself, with its rushing stream and raging rapids. 

Capitola had become a skilful as she had first been a fear- 
less rider. But her rides were confined to the domain be- 
tween the mountain range and the river ; she was forbidden to 
ford the one or climb the other. Perhaps if such a prohibi- 
tion had never been made Capitola would never have thought 
of doing the one or the other ; but we all know the diabolical 
fascination there is in forbidden pleasures for young human 
nature. And no sooner had Cap been commanded, if she 
valued her safety, not to cross the water or climb the preci- 
pice than, as a natural consequence, she began to wonder 
what was in the valley behind the mountain and what might 
be in the woods across the river. And she longed, above all 
things, to explore and find out for herself. She would eagerly 
have done so, notwithstanding the prohibition ; but Wool, who 
always attended her rides, was sadly in the way. If she could 
only get rid of Wool, she resolved to go upon a limited ex- 
ploring expedition. 

One day a golden opportunity occurred. It was a day of 
unusual beauty, when autumn seemed to be smiling upon 
the earth with her brightest smiles before passing away. In a 
word, it was Indian summer. The beauty of the weather had 
tempted Old Hurricane to ride to the county seat on parti- 
cular business connected with his ward herself. 

Capitola, left alone, amused herself with her tasks until the 
afternoon ; then, calling a boy, she ordered him to saddle her 
horse and bring him around. 

“My dear, what do you want with your horse? There is 
no one to attend you ; Wool has gone with his master,” said 
Mrs. Condiment, as she met Capitola in the hall, habited for 
her ride. 

“ I know that ; but I cannot be mewed up here in the old 
house and deprived of my afternoon ride,” exclaimed Capitola, 
decidedly. 

“ But, my dear, you must never think of riding out alone,” 
exclaimed the dismayed Mrs. Condiment. 

“ Indeed I shall, though — and glad of the opportunity,” 
added Cap, mentally. 


108 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ But, my dear love, it is improper, imprudent, dangerous.” 

“ Why so? ” asked Cap. 

“ Good gracious, upon every account ! Suppose you were 
to meet with ruffians ; suppose — oh, heaven ! — suppose you 
were to meet with — Black Donald ! ” 

“ Mrs. Condiment, once for all do tell me who this terrible 
Black Donald is? Is he the Evil One himself, or the Man in 
the Iron Mask, or the individual that struck Billy Patterson, 
or — who is he ? ” 

“ Who is Black Donald ? Good gracious, child, you ask me 
who is Black Donald ! ” 

“Yes; who is he? where is he? what is he? that every 
cheek turns pale at the mention of his name?” asked Capitola. 

“ Black Donald ! Oh, my child, may you never know more 
of Black Donald than I can tell you. Black Donald is the 
chief of a band of ruthless desperadoes that infest these moun- 
tain roads, robbing mail coaches, stealing negroes, breaking into 
houses and committing every sort of depredation. Theirhands 
are red with murder and their souls black with darker crimes.” 

“ Darker crimes than murder ! ” ejaculated Capitola. 

“ Yes, child, yes; there are darker crimes. Only last win- 
ter he and three of his gang broke into a solitary house where 
there was a lone woman and her daughter, and — it is not a 
story for you to hear ; buc if the people had caught Black 
Donald then they would have burned him at the stake ! His 
life is forfeit by a hundred crimes. He is an outlaw, and a 
heavy price is set upon his head.” 

“And can no one take him? ” 

“ No, my dear ; at least, no one has been able to do so yet. 
His very haunts are unknown, but are supposed to be in con- 
cealed mountain caverns.” 

“ How I would like the glory of capturing Black Donald ! ” 
said Capitola. 

“ You, child ! You capture Black Donald ! You are crazy ! ” 

“ Oh, by stratagem, I mean, not by force. Oh, how I 
should like to capture Black Donald ! — There's my horse ; 
good-by ! ” and before Mrs. Condiment could raise another 
objection Capitola ran out, sprang into her saddle and was 
seen careering down the hill toward the river as fast as her 
horse could fly. 

“ My Lord, but the major will be hopping if he finds it 
out ! ” was good Mrs. Condiment’s dismayed exclamation. 


CAP’S COUNTRY CAPERS. 


109 


Rejoicing in ner freedom, Cap galloped down to the water’s 
edge, and then walked her horse up and down along the 
course of the stream until she found a good fording place. 
Then, gathering up her riding skirt and throwing it over the 
neck of her horse she plunged boldly into the stream, and, 
with the water splashing and foaming all around her, urged/ 
him onward till they crossed the river and climbed up the 
opposite bank. A bridle-path lay before her, leading from 
the fording place through a deep wood. That path attracted 
her; she followed it, charmed alike by the solitude of the 
wood, the novelty of the scene and her own sense of freedom. 
But one thought was given to the story of Black Donald, and 
that was a reassuring one : 

“ If Black Donald is a mail robber, then this little bridle- 
path is far enough off his beat.” 

And, so saying, she gayly galloped along, singing as she 
went, following the narrow path up hill and down dale through 
the wintry woods. Drawn on by the attraction of the un- 
known, and deceiving herself by the continued repetition of one 
resolve, namely — “ When I get to the top of the next hill, and 
see what lies beyond, then I will turn back ” — she galloped on 
and on, on and on, on and on, until she had put several miles 
between herself and her home ; until her horse began to ex- 
hibit signs of weariness, and the level rays of the setting sun 
were striking redly through the leafless branches of the trees. 

Cap drew rein at the top of a high, wooded hill and looked 
about her. On her left hand the sun was sinking like a ball 
of fire below the horizon ; all around her everywhere were the 
wintry woods; far away, in the direction whence she had 
come, she saw the tops of the mountains behind Hurricane 
Hall, looking like blue clouds against the southern horizon ; 
the Hall itself and the river below were out of sight. 

“ I wonder how far I am from home ? ” said Capitola, un- 
easily ; “ somewhere between six and seven miles, I reckon. 
De?r me, I didn’t mean to ride so far. I’ve got over a great 
deal of ground in these two hours. I shall not get back so 
soon ; my horse is tired to death ; it will take me three hours 
to reach Hurricane Hall. Good gracious ! it will be pitch 
dark before I get there. No, thank heaven, there will be a 
moon. But won’t there be a row though? Whew ! Well, I 
must turn about and lose no time. Come, Gyp, get up, Gyp, 
good horse ; we’re going home 


no 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


And so saying, Capitola turned her horse’s head and urged 
him into a gallop. 

She had gone on for about a mile, and it was growing dark, 
and her horse was again slackening his pace, when she thought 
she heard the sound of another horse’s hoofs behind her. 
She drew rein and listened, and was sure of it. 

Now, without being the least of a coward, Capitola thought 
of the loneliness of the woods, the lateness of the hour, her 
own helplessness, and — Black Donald ! And thinking “ dis- 
cretion the better part of valor,” she urged her horse once 
more into a gallop for a few hundred yards ; but the jaded 
beast soon broke into a trot and subsided into a walk that 
threatened soon to come to a standstill. 

The invisible pursuer gained on her. 

In vain she urged her steed with whip and voice ; the poor 
beast would obey and trot for a few yards, and then fall into 
a walk. 

The thundering footfalls of the pursuing horse were close in 
the rear. 

“ Oh, Gyp, is it possible that, instead of my capturing Black 
Donald, you are going to let Black Donald or somebody else 
catch me?” exclaimed Capitola, in mock despair, as she 
urged her wearied steed. 

In vain ! The pursuing horseman was beside her ; a strong 
hand was laid upon her bridle ; a mocking voice was whisper- 
ing in her ear : 

“ Whither away so fast, pretty one? ” 


CAP’S FEARFUL ADVENTURE. 


hi 


CHAPTER XVI. 
cap’s fearful adventure. 

Who passes by this road so late ? 

Companion of the Majolaine ! 

Who passes by this road so late ? 

Say ! oh, say ! 

— Old French Song. 

Of a naturally strong constitution and adventurous disposi- 
tion, and inured from infancy to danger, Capitola possessed a 
high degree of courage, self-control and presence of mind. 

At tne touch of that ruthless hand, at the sound of that 
gibing voice, all her faculties instantly collected and concen- 
trated themselves upon the emergency. As by a flash of 
lightning she saw every feature of her imminent danger — the 
loneliness of the woods, the lateness of the hour, the reckless- 
ness of her fearful companion and her own weakness. In 
another instant her resolution was taken and her course de- 
termined. So, when the stranger repeated his mocking 
question : 

“Whither away so fast, pretty one?” she answered with 
animation : 

“ Oh, I am going home, and so glad to have company ; for, 
indeed, I was dreadfully afraid of riding alone through these 
woods to-night.” 

“ Afraid, pretty one — of what? ” 

“ Oh, of ghosts and witches, wild beasts, runaway negroes, 
and — Black Donald.” 

“Then you are not afraid of me?” 

« Lors, no, indeed ! I guess I ain’t ! Why should I be 
afraid of a respectable-looking gentleman like you, sir ? ” 

“ And so you are going home? Where is your home, pretty 
one? ” 

« On the other side of the river. But you need not keep 
on calling me 1 pretty one ; ’ it must be as tiresome to you to 
repeat it as it is to me to hear it.” 


1 12 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“What shall I call you, then, my dear?” 

“ You may call me Miss Black ; or, if you are friendly, you 
may call me Capitola.” 

“ Capitola ! ” exclaimed the man, in a deep and changed 
voice, as he dropped her bridle. 

“Yes — Capitola; what objection have you got to that? 
It is a pretty name, isn’t it? But if you think it is too long ; 
and if you feel very friendly, you may call me Cap.” 

“ Well, then, my pretty Cap, where do you live across the 
river?” asked the stranger, recovering his self-possession. 

“ Oh, at a rum old place they call Hurricane Hall, with a 
rum old military officer they call Old Hurricane,” said Capi- 
tola, for the first time stealing a sidelong glance at her fearful 
companion. 

It was not Black Donald ; that was the first conclusion to 
which she rashly jumped. He appeared to be a gentlemanly 
ruffian about forty years of age, well dressed in a black riding- 
suit ; black beaver hat drawn down close over his eyes : black 
hair and whiskers ; heavy black eyebrows that met across his 
nose ; drooping eyelashes, and eyes that looked out under the 
corners of the lids ; altogether a sly, sinister, cruel face — a 
cross between a fox and a tiger. It warned Capitola to ex- 
pect no mercy there. After the girl’s last words he seemed 
to have fallen into thought for a moment, and then again he 
spoke : 

“ Well, my pretty Cap, how long have you been living at 
Hurricane Hall?” 

“ Ever since my guardian, Major Warfield, brought me from 
the City of New York, -here I received my education (in the 
streets),” she mentally added. 

“ Humph ! Why did you ride so fast, my pretty Cap ? ” 
he asked, eying her from the corner of his eyes. 

“ Oh, sir, because I was afraid, as I told you before ; afraid 
of runaway negroes and wild beasts, and so on ; but now, 
with a good gentleman like you, I don’t feel afraid at all ; and 
I’m very glad to be able to walk poor Gyp, because he is 
tired, poor fellow.” 

“ Yes, poor fellow,” said the traveler, in a mocking tone, 
“ he is tired ; suppose you dismount and let him rest. Come, 
I’ll get off, too, and we will sit down here by the roadside and 
have a friendly conversation.” 

Capitola stole a glance at his face. Yes, notwithstanding 


CAP’S FEARFUL ADVENTURE. 


ii3 

his light tone, he was grimly in earnest ; there was no mercy 
to be expected from that sly, sinister, cruel face. 

“Come, my pretty Cap, what say you?” 

“ I don’t care if I do,” she said, riding to the edge of the 
path, drawing rein and looking down as if to examine the 
ground. 

“Come, little beauty, must I help you off?” asked the 
stranger. 

“ N-n-no,” answered Capitola, with deliberate hesitation ; 
“ no, this is not a good place to sit down and talk ; it’s all 
full of brambles.” 

“Very well ; shall we go on a little further? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; but I don’t want to ride fast, because it will 
tire my horse.” 

“ You shall go just as you please, my angel,” said the traveler. 

“ I wonder whether this wretch thinks me very simple or 
very depraved? He must come to one or the other con- 
clusion,” thought Capitola. 

They rode on very slowly for a mile further, and then, 
having arrived at an open glade, the stranger drew rein and 
said : 

“ Come, pretty lark, hop down ; here’s a nice place to sit 
and rest.” 

« Very well ; come help me off,” said Capitola, pulling up 
her horse ; then, as by a sudden impulse, she exclaimed : “ I 
don’t like this place either ; it’s right on top of the hill ; so 
windy, and just see how rocky the ground is. No, I’ll not 
sit and rest here, and that I tell you.” 

“I am afraid you are trifling with me, my pretty bird. 
Take care ; I’ll not be trifled with,” said the man. 

“ I don’t know what you mean by trifling with you any more 
than the dead. But I'll not sit down there on those sharp 
rocks, and so I tell you. If you will be civil and ride along 
with me until we get to the foot of the hill, I know a nice 
place where we can sit down and have a good talk, and I will 
ftll you all my travels and you shall tell me all yours.” 

“ Ex-actly ; and where is that nice place? ” 

“Why, in the valley at the foot of the hill.” 

“ Come — come on, then.” 

“Slowly, slowly,” said Capitola; “I won’t tire my horse.” 

They rode over the hill, down the gradual descent and on 
toward the center of the valley. 

8 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


1 14 

They were now within a quarter of a mile of the river, on 
the opposite side of which was Hurricane Hall and — safety 1 
The stranger drew rein, saying : 

“ Come, my cuckoo ; here we are at the bottom of the 
valley ; now or never.” 

“ Oh, now, of course ; you see, I keep my promise,” an- 
swered Capitola, pulling up her horse. 

The man sprang from his saddle and came to her side. 

“ Please be careful, now ; don’t let my riding-skirt get hung 
in the stirrup,” said Capitola, cautiously disengaging her 
drapery, rising in the saddle and giving the stranger her hand. 
In the act of jumping she suddenly stopped and looked down, 
exclaiming : 

“ Good gracious ! how very damp the ground is here, in the 
bottom of the valley ! ” 

“More objections, I suppose, my pretty one; but they 
won’t serve you any longer. I am bent upon having a cozy 
chat with you upon that very turf,” said the stranger, point- 
ing to a little cleared space among the trees beside the 
path. 

“ Now, don’t be cross ; just see how damp it is there ; it 
would spoil my riding-dress and give me my death of cold.” 

“ Humph ! ” said the stranger, looking at her with a sly, 
grim, cruel resolve. 

“I’ll tell you what it is,” said Cap, “I’m not witty nor 
amusing, nor will it pay to sit out in the night air to hear me 
talk ; but, since you wish it, and since you were so good as 
to guard me through these woods, and since I promised, why, 
damp as it is, I will even get off and talk with you.” 

“That’s my birdling ! ” 

“ But hold on a minute ; is there nothing you can get to 
put there for me to sit on — no stump nor dry stone ? ” 

“No, my dear; I don’t see any.” 

“ Could you not turn your hat down and let me sit on that? ” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! Why, your weight would crush it as flat as 
a flounder! ” 

“ Oh, I know now ! ” exclaimed Capitola, with sudden de- 
light ; “ you just spread your saddle-cloth down there, and 
that will make a beautiful seat, and I’ll sit and talk with you 
so nicely — only you must not want me to stay long, because 
if I don’t get home soon I shall catch a scolding.” 

“ You shall neither catch a scolding nor a cold on my ac- 


CAP’S FEARFUL ADVENTURE. 115 

count, pretty one,” said the man, going to his horse to get the 
saddle-cloth. 

“ Oh, don’t take off the saddle — it will detain you too long,” 
said Cap, impatiently. 

“ My pretty Cap, I cannot get the cloth without taking it 
off,” said the man, beginning to unbuckle the girth. 

“Oh, y^s, you can; you can draw it from under,” persisted 
Cap. 

“ Impossible, my angel,” said the man, lifting off the saddle 
from his horse and laying it carefully by the roadside. 

Then he took off the gay, crimson saddle-cloth and carried 
it into the little clearing and began carefully to spread it 
down. 

Now was Cap’s time. Her horse had recovered from his 
fatigue. The stranger’s horse was in the path before her. 
While the man’s back was turned she raised her riding whip 
and, with a shout, gave the front horse a sharp lash that sent 
him galloping furiously ahead. Then, instantaneously putting 
whip to her own horse, she started into a run. 

Hearing the shout, the lash and the starting of the horses, 
the baffled villain turned and saw that his game was lost ; he 
had been outwitted by a child ! He gnashed his teeth and 
shook his fist in rage. 

Turning as she wheeled out of sight, Capitola — I am sorry 
to say — put her thumb to the side of her nose and whirled her 
fingers into a semicircle, in a gesture more expressive than 
elegant. 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

ANOTHER STORM AT HURRICANE HALL. 

At this, Sir Knight grew high in wroth, 

And lifting hands and eyes up both, 

Three times he smote on stomach stout, 

From whence, at length, fierce words broke out 

— Hudibras. 

The moon was shining full upon the river and the home- 
stead beyond when Capitola dashed into the water and, amid 
the sparkling and leaping of the foam, made her way to the 
other bank and rode up the rugged ascent. On the outer side 
of the lawn wall the moonbeams fell full upon the little figure 
of Pitapat waiting there. 

“Why, Patty, what takes you out so late as this?” asked 
Capitola, as she rode up to the gate. 

“ Oh, Miss Catterpillar, I’se waitin’ for you. Old marse is 
dreadful he is ! Jest fit to bust th$ shingles offen the roof 
with swearing ! So I come out to warn you, so you steal in 
the back way and go to your room so he won’t see you, and 
I’ll go and send Wool to put your horse away, and then I’ll 
bring you up some supper and tell old marse how you’ve been 
home ever so long, and gone to bed with a werry bad head- 
ache.” 

^ “ Thank you, Patty. It is perfectly astonishing how easy 

lying is to you ! You really deserve to have been born in Rag 
Alley ; but I won’t trouble the recording angel to make an- 
other entry against you on my account.” 

“ Yes, miss,” said Pitapat, who thought that her mistress 
was complimenting her. 

“ And now, Patty, stand out of my way. I am going to 
ride straight up to the horse-block, dismount and walk right 
into the presence of Major Warfield,” said Capitola, passing 
through the gate. 

“ Oh, Miss Catterpillar, don’t ! don’t I he’ll kill you, so he 
will ! ” 


ANOTHER STORM 


ii; 

“ Who’s afeard ? ” muttered Cap to herself, as she put her 
horse to his mettle and rode gayly through the evergreens up 
to the horse-block, where she sprang down lightly from her 
saddle. 

Gathering up her train with one hand and tossing back her 
head, she swept along toward the house with the air of a 
young princess. 

There was a vision calculated to test her firmness. Reader, 
did you ever see a raging lion tearing to and fro the narrow 
limits of his cage, and occasionally shaking the amphitheatre 
with his tremendous roar ; or a furious bull tossing his head 
and tail and plowing up the earth with his hoofs as he 
careered back and forth between the boundaries of his pen? 
If you have seen and noted these mad brutes, you may form 
some idea of the frenzy of Old Hurricane as he stormed up 
and down the floor of the front piazza. 

Cap had just escaped an actual danger of too terrible a 
character to be frightened now by sound and fury. Compos- 
edly she walked up into the porch and said : 

“ Good evening, uncle.” 

The old man stopped short in his furious strides and glared 
upon her with his terrible eyes. 

Cap stood fire without blanching, merely remarking : 

“Now, I have no doubt that in the days when you went 
battling that look used to strike terror into the heart of the 
enemy, but it doesn’t into mine, somehow.” 

“ Miss ! ” roared the old man, bringing down his cane with 
a resounding thump upon the floor ; “ miss ! how dare you 
have the impudence to face me, much less the — the — the 
assurance ! — the effrontery ! — the audacity ! — the brass ! to 
speak to me ! ” 

“ Well, I declare,” said Cap, calmly untying her hat ; “ this 
is the first time I ever heard it was impudent in a little girl to 
give her uncle good evening ! ” 

The old man trotted up and down the piazza two or three 
turns, then, stopping short before the delinquent, he struck his 
cane down upon the floor with a ringing stroke and thundered : 

“ Young woman, tell me instantly and without prevarication 
where you’ve been ! ” 

“ Certainly, sir ; ‘ going to and fro in the earth and walking 
up and down in it,’ ” said Cap, quietly. 

“ Flames and furies ! that is no answer at all ! Where have 


1 1 8 THE HIDDEN HAND. 

you been?” roared Old Hurricane, shaking with excite- 
ment. 

“ Look here, uncle ; if you go on that way you’ll have a fit 
presently,” said Cap, calmly. 

“ Where have you been ? ” thundered Old Hurricane. 

“ Well, since you will know — just across the river and through 
the woods and back again.” 

“ And didn’t I forbid you to do that, minion? and how dare 
you disobey me ? You the creature of my bounty ; you, the 
miserable little vagrant that I picked up in the alleys of New 
York and tried to make a young lady of ; but an old proverb 
says ‘ You can’t make a silken purse out of a pig’s ear.’ How 
dare you, you little beggar, disobey your benefactor ? — a man 
of my age, character and position? I — I — ” Old Hurricane 
turned abruptly and raged up and down the piazza. 

All this time Capitola had been standing quietly, holding 
up her train with one hand and her riding habit in the other. 
At this last insult she raised her dark-gray eyes to his face 
with one long indignant, sorrowful gaze ; then, turning silently 
away and entering the house, she left Old Hurricane to storm 
up and down the piazza until he had raged himself to 
rest. 

Reader, I do not defend, far less approve, poor Cap. I 
only tell her story and describe her as I have seen her, leaving 
her to your charitable interpretation. 

Next morning Capitola came down into the breakfast-room 
with one idea prominent in her hard little head, to which she 
mentally gave expression : 

“ Well as I like that old man, he must not permit himself 
to talk to me in that indecent strain, and so he must be made 
to know.” 

When she entered the breakfast-room she found Mrs. Con- 
diment already at the head of the table and Old Hurricane at 
the foot. He had quite got over his rage, and turned around 
blandly to welcome his ward, saying; 

“ Good morning, Cap.” 

Without taking the slightest notice of the salutation, Cap 
sailed on to her seat. 

“ Humph. Did you hear me say « Good morning/ 
Cap?” 

Without paying the least attention, Capitola reached out 
her hand and took a cup of coffee from Mrs. Condiment. 


ANOTHER STORM 


119 

“ Humph ! Humph ! Good morning, Capitola ! ” said 
Old Hurricane, with marked emphasis. Apparently without 
hearing him. Cap helped herself to a buckwheat cake and 
daintily buttered it. 

“ Humph ! humph ! humph ! Well as you said yourself, * a 
dumb devil is better than a speaking one,’ ” ejaculated Old 
Hurricane, as he sat down and subsided into silence. 

Doubtless the old man would have flown into another pas- 
sion, had that been possible ; but, in truth, he had spent so 
much vitality in rage number one that he had none left to sus- 
tain rage number two. Besides, he knew it would be neces- 
sary to blow up Bill Ezy, his lazy overseer, before night, and 
perhaps saved himself for that performance. He finished his 
meal in silence and went out. 

Cap finished hers, and, ‘ tempering justice with mercy/ 
went upstairs to his room and looked over all his appointments 
and belongings to find what she would do for his extra com- 
fort, and found a job in newly lining his warm slippers and the 
sleeves of his dressing-gown. 

They met again at the dinner-table. 

“ How do you do, Cap? ” said Old Hurricane, as he took 
his seat. 

Capitola poured out a glass of water and drank it in silence. 

“ Oh, very well, ‘a dumb devil/ etc./’ exclaimed Old Hur- 
ricane, addressing himself to his dinner. When the meal was 
over they again separated. The old man went to his study to 
examine his farm books, and Capitola back to her chamber to 
finish lining his warm slippers. 

Again at tea they met. 

“Well, Cap is ‘the dumb devil’ cast out yet?” he said, 
sitting down. 

Capitola took a cup of tea from Mrs. Condiment and passed 
it on to him in silence. 

“Humph! not gone yet, eh? Poor girl, how it must try 
you,” said Old Hurricane. 

After supper the old man found his dressing-gown and slip- 
pers before the fire all ready for his use. 

“ Cap, you monkey, you did this,” he said, turning around. 
But Capitola had already left the room. 

Next morning at breakfast there was a repetition of the 
same scene. Early in the forenoon Major Warfield ordered 
his horses and, attended by Wool rode up to Tip-Top. He 


r 


T 20 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


did not return either to dinner or tea, but as that circumstance 
was not unusual, it gave no uneasiness. Mrs. Condiment kept 
his supper warm, and Capitola had his dressing-gown and 
slippers ready. 

She was turning them before the fire when the old man ar- 
rived. He came in quite gayly, saying : 

“ Now, Cap, I think I have found a talisman at last to cast 
out that ‘ dumb devil.’ I heard you wishing for a watch the 
other day. Now, as devils belong to eternity, and have no 
business with time, of course the sight of this little time- 
keeper must put yours to flight,” and so saying he laid upon 
the table, before the eyes of Capitola, a beautiful little gold 
watch and chain. She glanced at it as it lay glittering and 
sparkling in the lamplight, and then turned abruptly and 
walked away. 

“ Humph ! that’s always the way the devils do — fly when 
they can’t stand shot.” 

Capitola deliberately walked back, laid a paper over the 
little watch and chain, as if to cover its fascinating sparkle 
and glitter, and said : 

“ Uncle, your bounty is large and your present is beautiful ; 
but there is something that poor Capitola values more 
than ” 

She paused, dropped her head upon her bosom, a sudden 
blush flamed up over her face, and tear-drops glittered in her 
downcast eyes. She put both hands before her burning face 
for a moment, and then, dropping them, resumed : 

“ Uncle, you rescued me from misery and, perhaps — per- 
haps, early death; you have heaped benefits and bounties 
upon me without measure ; you have placed me in a home 
of abundance, honor and security. For all this if I were not 
grateful I should deserved no less than death. But, uncle, 
there is a sin that is worse, at least, more ungenerous, than 
ingratitude ; it is to put a helpless fellow-creature under heavy 
obligations and then treat that grateful creature with unde- 
served contempt and cruel unkindness.” Once more her 
voice was choked with feeling. 

For some reason or other Capitola’s tears— perhaps be- 
cause they were so rare — always moved Old Hurricane to his 
heart’s center. Going toward her softly, he said : 

“ Now, my dear ; now, my child ; now, my little Cap, you 
know it was all for your own good. Why, my dear, I never 


ANOTHER STORM 


12 1 


for one instant regretted bringing you to the house, and I 
wouldn’t part with you for a kingdom. Come, now, my 
child ; come to the heart of your old uncle.” 

Now, the soul of Capitola naturally abhorred sentiment. 
If ever she gave way to serious emotion, she was sure to 
^avenge herself by being more capricious than before. Con- 
sequently, flinging herself out of the caressing arms of Old 
Hurricane, she exclaimed : 

‘‘ Uncle, I won’t be treated with both kicks and half- 
pennies by the same person, and so I tell you. I am not a 
cur to be fed with roast beef and beaten with a stick, nor — 
nor — nor a Turk’s slave to be caressed and oppressed as her 
master likes. Such abuse as you heaped upon me I never 
heard — no, not even in Rag Alley ! ” 

“ Oh, my dear ! my dear ! my dear ! for heaven’s sake 
forget Rag Alley? ” 

“ I won’t ! I vow I’ll go back to Rag Alley for a very little 
more. Freedom and peace is even sweeter than wealth and 
honors.” 

Ah, but I won’t let you, my little Cap.” 

“ Then I’d have you up before the nearest magistrate, to 
show by what right you detained me. Ah, ha ! I wasn’t 
brought up in New York for nothing.” 

“ Whee-eu ! and all this because, for her own good, I gave 
my own niece and ward a little gentle admonition.” 

“ Gentle admonition ! Do you call that gentle admonition ? 
Why, uncle, you are enough to frighten most people to death 
with your fury. You are a perfect dragon ! a griffin ! a Rus- 
sian bear ! a Bengal tiger ! a Numidian lion ! You’re all 
Barnum’s beasts in one ! I declare, if I don’t write and ask 
him to send a party down here to catch you for his museum ! 
You’d draw, I tell you ! ” 

“ Yes, especially with you for a keeper to stir me up once 
in a while with a long pole.” 

“ And that I’d engage to do — cheap.” 

The entrance of Mrs. Condiment with the tea-tray put an 
end to the controversy. It was, as yet, a drawn battle. 

“ And what about the watch, my little Cap? ” 

“ Take it back, uncle, if you please.” 

“ But they won’t have it back ; it has got your initials en- 
graved upon it. Look here,” said the old man, holding the 
watch to her eyes. 


122 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ < C. L. N.’ — those are not my initials,” said Capitola, 
looking up with surprise. 

“ Why, so they are not ; the blamed fools have made a mis- 
take. But you’ll have to take it, Cap.” 

** No, uncle ; keep it for the present,” said Capitola, who 
was too honest to take a gift that she felt she did not deserve, 
and yet too proud to confess as much. 

Peace was proclaimed — for the present. 

Alas ! ’twas but of short continuance. During these two 
days of coolness and enforced quietude Old Hurricane had 
gathered a store of bad humors that required expenditure. 

So the very next day something went wrong upon the farm, 
and Old Hurricane came storming home, driving his overseer, 
poor, old, meek Billy Ezy, and his man Wool before him. 

Bill Ezy was whimpering ; Wool was sobbing aloud ; Old 
Hurricane was roaring at them both as he drove them on 
before him, swearing that Ezy should go and find himself a 
new home and Wool should go and seek another master. 

And for this cause Old Hurricane was driving them on to 
his study, that he might pay the overseer his last quarter’s 
salary and give the servant a written order to find a master. 

He raged past Capitola in the hall, and, meeting Mrs. Con- 
diment at the study door, ordered her to bring in her account 
book directly, for that he would not be imposed upon any 
longer, but meant to drive all the lazy, idle, dishonest eye- 
servants and time-servers from the house and land ! 

“What’s the matter now?” said Capitola, meeting her. 

“ Oh, child, he’s in his terrible tantrums again ! He gets 
into these ways every once in a while, when a young calf 
perishes, or a sheep is stolen, or anything goes amiss, and then 
he abuses us all for a pack of loiterers, sluggards and thieves, 
and pays us off and orders us off. We don’t go, of course, 
because we know he doesn’t mean it ; still, it is very trying to 
be talked to so. Oh, I should go, but Lord, child, he’s a 
bear, but we love him.” 

Just as she spoke the study door opened and Bill Ezy came 
out sobbing, and Wool lifting up his voice and fairly roaring. 

Mrs. Condiment stepped out of the parlor door. 

“What’s the matter, you blockhead? ” she asked of Wool. 

“ Oh ! boo-hoo-woo ! Ole marse been and done and gone 
and guv me a line to find an — an — another — boo-hoo-woo ! ” 
sobbed Wool, ready to break his heart. 


ANOTHER STORM. 


123 

“ Give you a line to find another boo-hoo-woo ! I wouldn’t 
do it, if I were you, Wool,” said Capitola. 

“ Give me the paper, Wool,” said Mrs. Condiment, taking 
the “ permit” and tearing it up, and adding: 

“ There, now, you go home to your quarter, and keep out 
of your old master’s sight until he gets over his anger, and 
then you know very well that it will be all right. There, go 
along with you.” 

Wool quickly got out of the way and made room for the 
overseer, who was sniveling like a whipped schoolboy, and to 
whom the housekeeper said : 

“ I thought you were wiser than to take this so to heart, 
Mr. Ezy.” 

“Oh, mum, what could you expect? An old sarvint a* 
has sarved the major faithful these forty years, to be dis- 
charged at sixty-five ! Oh, hoo-ooo-oo ! ” whimpered the 
overseer. 

“ But then you have been discharged so often you ought to 
be used to it by this time. You get discharged, just as Wool 
gets sold, about once a month — but do you ever go? ” 

“ Oh, mum, but he’s in airnest this time ; ’deed he is, mum ; 
terrible in airnest ; and all about that misfortnet bobtail colt 
getting stole. I know how it wur some of Black Donald’s 
gang as done it — as if I could always be on my guard against 
them devils ; and he means it this time, mum ; he’s terrible 
in airnest ! ” 

“ Tut ! he’s always in earnest for as long as it lasts ; go 
home to your family and to-morrow go about your business 
as usual.” 

Here the study bell rang violently and Old Hurricane’s 
voice was heard calling, “ Mrs. Condiment ! Mrs. Condi- 
ment ! ” 

“ Oh, Lor’, he’s coming ! ” cried Bill Ezy, running off as 
last as his age and grief would let him. 

“ Mrs. Condiment ! Mrs. Condiment ! ” called the voice. 

“ Yes, sir, yes,” answered the housekeeper, hurrying to obey 
the call. 

Capitola walked up and down the hall for half an hour, at 
the end of which Mrs. Condiment came out “ with a smile 
on her lip and a tear in her eye,” and saying : 

“ Well, Miss Capitola, I’m paid off and discharged alsot” 

“What for?” 


124 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ For aiding and abetting the rebels ; in a word, for trying 
to comfort poor Ezy and Wool.” 

“ And are you going? ” 

“Certainly not; 1 shan’t budge; I would not treat the 
old man so badly as to take him at his word.” And, 
with a strange smile, Mrs. Condiment hurried away just in 
time to escape Old Hurricane, who came raving out of the 
study. 

“ Get out of my way, you beggar ! ” he cried, pushing past 
Capitola and hurrying from the house. 

“ Well, I declare, that was pleasant ! ” thought Cap, as she 
entered the parlor. 

“ Mrs. Condiment, what will he say when he comes back 
and finds you all here still?” she asked. 

“Say? Nothing. After this passion is over he will be so 
exhausted that he will not be able to get up another rage in 
two or three days.” 

“ Where has he gone ? ” 

“ To Tip-Top, and alone, too ; he was so mad with poor 
Wool that he wouldn’t even permit him to attend.” 

“Alone? Has he gone alone? Oh, won’t I give him a 
dose when he comes back,” thought Capitola. 

Meanwhile Old Hurricane stormed along toward Tip-Top, 
lashing off the poor dogs that wished to follow him and cutting 
at every living thing that crossed his path. His business at 
the village was to get bills printed and posted offering an addi- 
tional reward for the apprehension of “ the marauding outlaw, 
Black Donald.” That day he dined at the village tavern — 
“The Antlers,” by Mr. Merry — and differed, disputed or 
quarrelled, as the case might be, with every man with whom 
he came in contact. 

Toward evening he set off for home. It was much later 
than his usual hour for returning; but he felt weary, ex- 
hausted and indisposed to come into his own dwelling where 
his furious temper had created so much unhappiness. Thus, 
though it was very late, he did not hurry ; he almost hoped 
that every one might be in bed when he should return. The 
moon was shining brightly when he passed the gate and rode 
up the evergreen avenue to the horse-block in front of the 
house. There he dismounted and walked up into the piazza, 
where a novel vision met his surprised gaze. 

It was Capitola, walking up and down the floor with rapid, 


ANOTHER STORM 


125 

almost masculine strides, and apparently in a state of great 
excitement. 

“Oh, is it you, my little Cap? Good evening, my dear,” 
he said, very kindly. 

Capitola “ pulled up ” in her striding walk, wheeled around, 
faced him, drew up her form, folded her arms, threw back 
her head, set her teeth and glared at him. 

“What the demon do you mean by that?” cried Old 
Hurricane. 

“ Sir ! ” she exclaimed, bringing down one foot with a 
sharp stamp ; “ sir ! how dare you have the impudence to 
face me? much less the — the — the — the brass ! the bronze ! 
the copper ! to speak to me ! ” 

“ Why, what in the name of all the lunatics in Bedlam does 
the girl mean? Is she crazy?” exclaimed the old man, 
gazing upon her in astonishment. 

Capitola turned and strode furiously up and down the 
piazza, and then, slopping suddenly and facing him, with a 
sharp stamp of her foot exclaimed : 

“ Old gentleman ! Tell me instantly and without prevarica- 
tion, where have you been? ” 

“To the demon with you ! What do you mean? Have 
you taken leave of your senses?” demanded Old Hurricane. 

Capitola strode up and down the floor a few times, and, 
stopping short an shaking her fist, exclaimed : 

“Didn’t you know, you headstrong, reckless, desperate, 
frantic veteran — didn’t you know the jeopardy in which you 
placed yourself in riding out alone at this hour? Suppose 
three or four great runaway negresses had sprung out of the 

bushes and — and — and ” She broke off apparently for 

want of breath, and strode up and down the floor ; then, 
pausing suddenly before him, with a stern stamp of her foot 
and a fierce glare of her eye, she continued : 

“You shouldn’t have come back here any more ! No dis- 
honored old man should have entered the house of which I 
call myself the mistress ! ” 

“ Oh, I take ! I take ! ha, ha, ha ! Good, Cap, good ? 
You are holding up the glass before me ; but your mirror is 
not quite large enough to reflect ‘ Old Hurricane,* my dear. 
< I owe one,’ ” said the old man, as hi passed into the house, 
followed by his capricious favorite. 


126 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE DOCTOR’S DAUGHTER. 

Oh, her smile, it seemed half holy, 

As if drawn from thoughts more far, 

Than our common jestings are. 

And, if any painter drew her, 

He would paint her unaware 
With a hallow round her hair. 

E. B. Browninc. 

On the appointed day Traverse took his way to Willow 
Heights to keep his tryst and enter upon his medical studies 
in the good doctor’s office. He was anxious also to know if 
his patron had as yet thought of any plan by which his 
mother might better her condition. He was met at the door 
by little Mattie, the parlor-maid, who told him to walk right 
upstairs into the study, where her master was expecting him. 

Traverse went up quietly and opened the door of that 
pleasant study-room, to which the reader has already been in- 
troduced, and the windows of which opened upon the upper 
front piazza. 

Now, however, as it was quite cold, the windows were 
down, though the blinds were open, and through them 
streamed the golden rays of the morning sun that fell glistening 
upon the fair hair and white raiment of a young girl who sat 
reading before the fire. 

The doctor was not in the room, and Traverse, in his 
native modesty, was just about to retreat when the young 
creature looked up from her book and, seeing him, arose with 
a smile and came forward, saying : 

“ You are the young man whom my father was expecting, 
I presume. Sit down ; he has stepped out, but will be in 
again very soon.” 

Now, Traverse, being unaccustomed to the society of young 
ladies, felt excessively bashful when suddenly coming into the 
presence of this refined and lovely girl. With a low bow and 
a deep blush he took the chair she placed for him. 


THE DOCTOR’S DAUGHTER. 


127 

With natural politeness she closed her book and addressed 
herself to entertaining him. 

“I have heard that your mother is an invalid; I hope she 
is better.” 

“ I thank you — yes, ma’am — miss,” stammered Traverse, in 
painful embarrassment. Understanding the viauvaise honte of 
the bashful boy, and seeing that her efforts to entertain only 
troubled him, she placed the newspapers on the table before 
him, saying : 

" Here are the morning journals, if you would like to look 
over them, Mr. Rocke,” and then she resumed her book. 

“ I thank you, miss,” replied the youth, taking up a paper, 
more for the purpose of covering up his embarrassment than 
for any other. 

Mr. Rocke ! Traverse was seventeen years of age, and had 
never been called Mr. Rocke before. This young girl was the 
very first to compliment him with the manly title, and he felt 
a boyish gratitude to her and a harmless wish that his well- 
brushed Sunday suit of black was not quite so rusty and 
threadbare, tempered by an innocent exultation in the thought 
chat no gentleman in the land could exhibit fresher linen, 
brighter shoes or cleaner hands than himself. 

But not many seconds were spent in such egotism. He 
stole a glance at his lovely companion sitting on the opposite 
side of the fireplace — he was glad to see that she was already 
deeply engaged in reading, for it enabled him to observe her 
without embarrassment or offense. He had scarcely dared to 
look at her before, and had no distinct idea of her beauty. 

There has been for him only a vague, dazzling vision of a 
golden-haired girl in floating white raiment, wafting the 
fragrance of violets as she moved, and with a voice sweeter 
than the notes of the cushat dove as she spoke. 

Now he saw that the golden hair flowed in ringlets around a 
fair, roseate face, soft and bright with feeling and intelligence. 
As her dark-blue eyes followed the page, a smile intense with 
meaning deepened the expression of her countenance. That 
intense smile — it was like her father’s, only lovelier — more 
heavenly. 

That intense smile — it had, even on the old doctor’s face, an 
inexpressible charm for Traverse — but on the lovely young 
face of his daughter it exercised an ineffable fascination. So 
earnest and so unconscious became the gaze of poor Traverse 


128 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


that he was only brought to a sense of propriety by the open- 
ing of the door and the entrance of the doctor, who ex- 
claimed : 

“ Ah, here already, Traverse ? That is punctual. This is 
my daughter Clara, Traverse ; Clare, this is Traverse you’ve 
heard me speak about. But I daresay you’ve already become 
acquainted,” concluded the doctor, drawing his chair up to 
the reading table, sitting down and folding his dressing- 
gown around his limbs. 

“ Well, Traverse, how is the little mother?” he presently 
inquired. 

“ I was just telling Miss Day that she was much better, sir,” 
said Traverse. 

“ Ah, ha, ha, ha ! ” muttered the doctor to himself ; “ that’s 
kitchen physic — roast turkey and port wine — and moral medi- 
cine, hope — and mental medicine, sympathy.” 

“Well, Traverse,” he said aloud, “ I have been racking my 
brain for a plan for your mother, and to no purpose. Traverse, 
your mother should be in a home of peace, plenty and cheer- 
fulness — I can speak before my little Clare here ; I never have 
any secrets from her. Your mother wants good living, cheer- 
ful company and freedom from toil and care. The situation 
of gentleman’s or lady’s housekeeper in some home of abun- 
dance, where she would be esteemed as a member of the 
family, would suit her. But where to find such a place? I 
have been inquiring — without mentioning her name, of course 
— among all my friends, but not one of them wants a house- 
keeper or knows a soul who does want one ; and so I am 1 at 
sea on the subject.’ I’m ashamed of myself for not succeeding 
better.” 

“Oh, sir, do not do yourself so great an injustice,” said 
Traverse. 

“ Well, the fact is, after boasting so confidently that I 
would find a good situation for Mrs. Rocke, lo and behold ! 
I have proved myself as yet only a boaster.” 

“ Father,” said Clara, turning upon him her sweet 
eyes. 

“Well, my love? ” 

“ Perhaps Mrs. Rocke would do us the favor to come here 
and take charge of our household.” 

“Eh 1 What? I never thought of that! I never had a 
housek wper in my life ! ” exclaimed the doctor. 


THE DOCTOR’S DAUGHTER. 


129 


“ No, sir ; because you never needed one before, but now 
we really do. Aunt Moggy has been a very faithful and effi- 
cient manager, although she is a colored woman ; but she is 
getting very old.” 

“Yes, and deaf and blind and careless. I know she is. I 
have no doubt in the world she scours the coppers with the 
table napkins and washes her face and hands in the soup 
tureen.” 

“ Oh, father ! ” said Clara. 

“ Well, Clare, at least she wants looking after.” 

“ Father, she wants rest in her old age.” 

“No doubt of it ; no doubt of it.” 

“ And, father, I intend, of course, in time, to be your house- 
keeper ; but, having spent all my life in a boarding school, I 
know very little about domestic affairs, and I require a great 
deal of instruction ; so I really do think that there is no one 
needs Mrs. Rocke’s assistance more than we do, and if she will 
do us the favor to come we cannot do better than to engage 
her.” 

“ To be sure ; to be sure ! Lord bless my soul ! to think 
it should never have entered my stupid old head until it was 
put there by Clare ! Here I was searching blindly all over the 
country for a situation for Mrs. Rocke, and wanting her all the 
time more than any one else ! That’s the way, Traverse ; 
that’s the way with us all, my boy ! While we are looking 
away off yonder for the solution of our difficulties, the remedy 
is all the time lying just under our noses ! ” 

“ But so close to our eyes, father, that we cannot see it,” 
said Clara. 

“ Just so, Clare ; just so. You are always ahead of me in 
ideas. Now, Traverse, when you go home this evening you 
shall take a note to your mother setting forth our wishes — 
mine and Clara’s ; if she accedes to them she will make us 
very happy.” 

With a great deal of manly strength of mind, Traverse had 
all his mother’s tenderness of heart. It was with difficulty 
that he could keep back his tears or control his voice while 
he answered : 

“ I remember reading, sir, that the young queen of Eng- 
land, when she came to her throne, wished to provide hand- 
somely for an orphan companion of her childhood ; and, see- 
ing that no office in her household suited the young person. 


130 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


she created one for her benefit. Sir, I believe you have made 
one for my mother.” 

“ Not at all ; not at all ! If she doesn’t come to look after 
our housekeeping, old Moggy will be greasing our griddles 
with tallow candle ends next ! If you don’t believe me, ask 
Clara, ask Clara ! ” 

Not “ believe” him ! If the doctor had affirmed that the 
moon was made of moldy cheese, Traverse would have deemed 
it his duty to stoutly maintain that astronomical theory. He 
felt hurt that the doctor should use such a phrase. 

“ Yes, indeed, we really do need her, Traverse,” said the 
doctor’s daughter. 

“Traverse ! ” It had made him proud to hear her call him 
for the first time in his life, “ Mr. Rocke ! ” but it made him 
deeply happy to hear her call him “ Traverse.” It had such 
a sisterly sound coming from this sweet creature. How he 
wished that she really were his sister ! But, then, the idea of 
that fair, golden-haired, blue-eyed, white-robed angel being 
the sister of such a robust, rugged, sunburned boy as himself ! 
The thought was so absurd, extravagant, impossible, that the 
poor boy heaved an unconscious sigh. 

“Why, what’s the matter, Traverse? What are you think- 
ing of so intently? ” 

“ Of your great goodness, sir, among other things.” 

“Tut ! let’s hear no more of that. I pleased myself,” said 
the doctor ; “ and now, Traverse, let’s go to work decently 
and in order. But first let me settle this point — if your good 
lirtle mother determines in our favor, Traverse, then, of course, 
you will live with us also, so I shall have my young medical 
assistant always at hand. That will be very convenient ; and 
then we shall have no more long, lonesome evenings, Clara, 
shall we, dear? And now, Traverse, I will mark out your 
course of study and set you to work at once.” 

“ Shall I leave the room, father?” inquired Clara. 

“ No, no, my dear ; certainly not. I have not had you 
home so long as to get tired of the sight of you yet ! No, 
Clare, no; you are not in our way — is she, Traverse? ” 

“ Oh, sir, the idea — ” stammered Traverse, blushing deeply 
to be so appealed to. 

In his way ! Why, a pang had shot through his bosom at 
the very mention of her going. 

44 Very well, then. Here, Traverse, here are your books. 


THE DOCTOR’S DAUGHTER. 


131 

You are to begin with this one ; keep this medical dictionary 
at hand for reference. Bless me, it will bring back my student 
days to go over the ground with you, my boy.” 

Clara took her work-box and sat down to stitch a pair of 
dainty wristbands for her father’s shirts. 

The doctor took up the morning papers. 

Traverse opened his book and commenced his readings. It 
was a quiet but by no means a dull circle. Occasionally 
Clara and her father exchanged words, and once in a while 
the doctor looked over his pupil’s shoulder or gave him a 
direction. 

Traverse studied con amove and with intelligent apprecia- 
tion. The presence of the doctor’s lovely daughter, far from 
disturbing him, calmed and steadied his soul into a state of 
infinite content. If the presence of the beautiful girl was ever 
to become an agitating element, the hour had not yet come. 

So passed the time until the dinner bell rang. 

By the express stipulation of the doctor himself, it was 
arranged that Traverse should always dine with his family* 
After dinner an hour — which the doctor called a digestive hour 
— was spent in loitering about and then the studies were re- 
sumed. 

At six o’clock in the evening Traverse took leave of the 
doctor and his fair daughter and started for home. 

“ Be sure to persuade your mother to come, Traverse,” said 
Clara. 

“ She will not need persuasion ; she will be only too glad to 
come, miss,” said Traverse, with a deep bow, turning and hur- 
rying away toward home. With “ winged feet ” he ran down 
the wooded hill and got into the highway, and hastened on 
with such speed that in half an hour he reached his mother’s 
little cottage. He was agog with joy and eagerness to tell her 
the good news. 


132 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE RESIGNED SOUL. 

This day be bread and peace my lot; 

All else beneath the sun 
Thou knowest if best bestowed or not. 

And let thy will be done. — P ope. 

Poor Marah Rocke had schooled her soul to resignation ; 
had taught herself just to do the duty of each day as it came, 
and leave the future — where, indeed, it must always remain — 
in the hands of God. Since the doctor’s delicate and judi- 
cious kindness had cherished her life, some little health and 
cheerfulness had returned to her. 

Upon this particular evening of the day upon which Tra- 
verse entered upon his medical studies she felt very hopeful. 

The little cottage fire burned brightly ; the hearth was 
swept clean ; the tea kettle was singing over the blaze ; the 
tiny tea table, with its two cups and saucers and two plates 
and knives was set : everything was neat, comfortable and 
cheerful for Traverse’s return. Marah sat in her little low 
chair, putting the finishing touches to a set of fine shirts. 

She was not anxiously looking for her son, for he had told 
her that he should stay at the doctor’s until six o’clock ; there- 
fore she did not expect him until seven. 

But so fast had Traverse walked that just as the minute 
hand pointed to half-past six the latch was raised and Tra- 
verse ran in — his face flushed with joy. 

The first thing he did was to run to his mother, fling his 
arms around her neck and kiss her. Then he threw himself 
into his chair to take breath. 

“ Now, then, what’s the matter, Traverse? You look as 
if somebody had left you a fortune ! ” 

“And so they have, or, as good as done so ! ” exclaimed 
Traverse, panting for breath. 

“What in the world do you mean? ” exclaimed Marah, her 
thoughts naturally flying to Old Hurricane, and suggesting his 
possible repentance or relenting. 


THE RESIGNED SOUL. 


133 

“ Read that, mother ! read that ! ” said Traverse, eagerly 
putting a note into her hand. 

She opened it and read : 


Willow Heights— M onday. 

Dear Madam — My little laughter Clara, fourteen years of age, has 
just returned from boardin, school to pursue her studies at home. 
Among other things, she m 'st learn domestic affairs, of which she 
knows nothing. If you will accept the position of housekeeper and 
matronly companion of my daughter, I will make the terms such as shall 
reconcile you to the change. We shall also do all that we can to make 
you happy. Traverse will explain to you the details. Take time to 
think of it, but if possible let us have your answer by Traverse when he 
comes to-morrow. If you accede to this proposition you will give my 
daughter and myself sincere satisfaction. 

Yours truly, 

WILLIAM DAY. 

Marah finished reading, and raised her eyes, full of amaze- 
ment, to the face of her son. 

“ Mother ! ” said Traverse, speaking fast and eagerly, “they 
say they really cannot do without you ! They have troops of 
servants ; but the old cook is in her dotage and does all sorts 
of strange things, such as frying buckwheat cakes in lamp oil 
and the like ! ” 

" Oh, hush ! what exaggeration ! ” 

“ Well, I don’t say she does that exactly, but she isn’t equal 
to her situation without a housekeeper to look after her, and 
they want you very much, indeed ! ” 

“ And what is to become of your home, if I break up ? 99 
suggested the mother. 

“ Oh, that is the very best of it ! The doctor says if 
you consent to come that I must also live there, and that then 
he can have his medical assistant always at hand, which will be 
very convenient ! ” 

Marah smiled dubiously. 

“ I do not understand it, but one thing I do know, Tra- 
verse ! There is not such a man as the doctor appears in this 
world more than once in a hundred years.” 

“ Not in a thousand years, mother, and as for his daughter 
— oh, you should see Miss Clara, mother ! Her father calls 
her Clare — Clare Day ! how the name suits her ! She is so 
fair and bright ! with such a warm, thoughtful, sunny smile 
that goes right to your heart ! Her face is, indeed, like a clear 
day, and her beautiful smile is the sunshine that lights it up ! ” 


1 34 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


said the enthusiastic youth, whose admiration was as yet too 
simple and single-hearted and unselfish to tie his tongue. 

The mother smiled at his earnestness — smiled without the 
least misgiving ; for, to her apprehension, the youth was still 
a boy, to wonder at and admire beauty, without being in the 
least danger of having his peace of mind disturbed by love. 
And as yet her idea of him was just. 

“ And mother, of course, you will go,” said Traverse. 

“ Oh, I do not know ! The proposition was so sudden and 
unexpected, and is so serious and important, that I must take 
time to reflect,” said Mrs. Rocke, thoughtfully. 

“ How much time, mother ? Will until to-morrow morning 
do? It must, little mother, because I promised to carry your 
consent back with me ! Indeed, I did, mother ! ” exclaimed 
the impatient boy. 

Mrs. Rocke dropped her head upon her hand, as was her 
custom when in deep thought. Presently she said : 

“ Travy, I’m afraid this is not a genuine offer of a situation 
of housekeeper ! I’m afraid that it is only a ruse to cover a 
scheme of benevolence ! and that they don’t really want me, 
and I should only be in their way.” 

“ Now, mother, I do assure you, they do want you ! Think 
of that young girl and elderly gentleman ! Can either of 
them take charge of a large establishment like that of Willow 
Heights ? ” 

“ Well argued, Traverse ; but granting that they need a 
housekeeper, how do I know I would suit them ? ” 

“ Why, you may take their own words for that, mother ! ” 

“ But how can they know ? I am afraid they would be 
disappointed ! ” 

“ Wait until they complain, mother ! ” 

“ I don’t believe they ever would ! ” 

“ I don’t believe they ever would have cause ! ” 

* Well, granting also that I should suit them ” — the mother 
paused and sighed. Traverse filled up the blank by saying : 

“ I suppose you mean — if you should suit them they might 
not suit you ! ” 

“ No, I do not mean that ! I am sure they would suit me ; 
but there is one in the world who may one day come to reason 
and take bitter umbrage at the fact that I should accept a 
subordinate situation in any household,” murmured Mis. 
Rocke, almost unconsciously. 


THE RESIGNED SOUL. 


135 


“ Then that ‘one in the world,’ whoever he, she, or it may 
be, had better place you above the necessity, or else hold his, 
her, or its tongue ! Mother, I think that goods thrown in our 
way by Providence had better be accepted, leaving the con- 
sequences to Him ! ” 

“ Traverse, dear, I shall pray over this matter to-night and 
sleep on it ; and He to whom even the fall of a sparrow is not 
indifferent will guide me,” said Mrs. Rocke ; and here the 
debate ended. 

The remainder of the evening was spent in laudation of 
Clare Day, and in writing a letter to Herbert Greyson, at 
West Point, in which all these laudations were reiterated, and 
in the course of which Traverse wrote these innocent words : 
u I have known Clare Day scarcely twelve hours, and I admire 
her as much as I love you ! and oh, Herbert ! If you could 
only rise to be a major-general and marry Clare Day, I should 
be the happiest fellow alive ! ” Would Traverse as willingly 
dispose of Clare’s hand a year or two after this time ? I 
trow not ! 

The next morning after breakfast Mrs. Rocke gave in her 
decision. 

“ Tell the doctor, Traverse,” she said, “ that I understand 
and appreciate his kindness; that I will not break up my 
humble home as yet, but I will lock up my house and come a 
month, on trial. If I can perform the duties of the situation 
satisfactorily, well and good ! I will remain ; if not, why then, 
having my home still m possession, I can return to it.” 

“ Wise little mother ! She will not cut down the bridge 
behind her ! ” exclaimed Traverse, joyfully, as he bade his 
mother good-by for the day, and hastened up to Willow 
Heights with her answer. This answer was received by the 
good doctor and his lovely daughter with delight as unfeigned 
as it was unselfish. They were pleased to have a good house- 
keeper, but they were far better pleased to offer a poor 
struggling mother a comfortable and even luxurious home. 

On the next Monday morning Mrs. Rocke having completed 
all her arrangements, and closed up the house, entered upon 
the duties of her new situation. 

Clara gave her a large, airy bed-chamber for her own use, 
communicating with a smaller one for the use of her son ; 
besides this, as housekeeper, she had of course, the freedom 
of the whole house. 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


136 

Traverse watched with anxious vigilance to find out whether 
the efforts of his mother really improved the condition of the 
housekeeping, and was delighted to find that the coffee was 
clearer and finer-flavored ; the bread whiter and lighter ; the 
cream richer, the butter fresher, and the beefsteak juicier than 
he had ever known them to be on the doctor’s table ; that on 
the dinner table, from day to day, dishes succeeded each other 
in a well-ordered variety and well-dressed style — in a word, 
that, in every particular, the comfort of the family was greatly 
enhanced by the presence of the housekeeper, and that the 
doctor and his daughter knew it. 

While the doctor and his student were engaged in the 
library, Clara spent many hours of the morning in Mrs. Rocke’s 
company, learning the arts of domestic economy and con- 
siderably assisting her in the preparation of delicate dishes. 

In the evening the doctor, Clara, Mrs. Rocke and Traverse 
gathered around the fire as one family — Mrs. Rocke and 
Clara engaged in needlework, and the doctor or Traverse in 
reading aloud, for their amusement, some agreeable book. 
Sometimes Clara would richly entertain them with music — 
singing and accompanying herself upon, the piano. 

An hour before bedtime the servants were always called in, 
and general family prayer offered up. 

Thus passed the quiet, pleasant, profitable days. Travers* 
was fast falling into a delicious dream, from which, as yet, nc 
rude shock threatened to wake him. Willow Heights seemed 
to him Paradise, its inmates angels, and his own life- 
beatitude ! 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE OUTLAW’S RENDEZVOUS. 

Our plots fall short like darts which rash hands throw 

With an ill aim, and have too far to go ; 

Nor can we long discoveries prevent ; 

God is too much about the innocent ! 

— Sir Robert Howard. 

“ The Old Road Inn,” described in the dying deposition of 
poor Nancy Grewell, was situated some miles from Hurricane 
Hall, by the side of a forsaken turnpike in the midst of a 
thickly wooded, long and narrow valley, shut in by two lofty 
ranges of mountains. 


THE OUTLAW'S RENDEZVOUS. 


137 


Once this turnpike was lively with travel and this inn gay 
with custom ; but for the last twenty-five years, since the 
highway had been turned off in another direction, both road 
and tavern had been abandoned, and suffered to fall to ruin. 
The road was washed and furrowed into deep and dangerous 
gullies, and obstructed by fallen timber ; the house was 
disfigured by moldering walls, broken chimneys and patched 
windows. 

Had any traveler lost himself and chanced to have passed 
that way, he might have seen a little, old, dried-up woman, 
sitting knitting at one of the windows. She was known by 
those who were old enough to remember her and her home, as 
Granny Raven, the daughter of the last proprietor of the inn. 
She was reputed to be dumb, but none could speak with 
certainty of the fact. In truth, for as far back as the memory 
of the “ oldest inhabitant ” could reach, she had been feared, 
disliked and avoided, as one of malign reputation ; indeed, the 
ignorant and superstitious believed her to possess the “ evil 
eye,” and to be gifted with “ second sight.” 

But of late years, as the old road and the old inn were quite 
forsaken, so the old beldame was quite forgotten. 

It was one evening, a few weeks after Capitola’s fearful 
adventure in the forest, that this old woman carefully closed 
up every door and window in the front of the house, stopping 
every crevice through which a ray of light might gleam and 
warn that impossible phenomenon — a chance traveler, on the 
old road, of life within the habitation. 

Having, so to speak, hermetically sealed the front of the 
house, she betook herself to a large back kitchen. 

This kitchen was strangely and rudely furnished, having an 
extra broad fireplace with the recesses, on each side of the 
chimney filled with oaken shelves, laden with strong pewter 
plates, dishes and mugs ; all along the walls were arranged 
rude, oaken benches ; down the length of the room was left, 
always standing, a long deal table, capable of accommodating 
from fifteen to twenty guests. 

On entering this kitchen Granny Raven struck a light, 
kindled a fire and began to prepare a large supper. 

Nor unlike the ill-omened bird whose name she bore did this 
old beldame look in her close-clinging black gown, and flapping 
black cape and hood, and with her sharp eyes, hooked nose 
and protruding chin. 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


138 

Having put a huge sirloin of beef before the fire, she took 
down a pile of pewter plates and arranged them along on the 
sides of the table ; then to every plate she placed a pewter 
mug. A huge wheaten loaf of bread, a great roll of butter and 
several plates of pickles were next put upon the board, and 
when all was ready the old woman sat down to the patient 
turning of the spit. 

She had not been thus occupied more than twenty minutes 
when a hasty, scuffling step was heard at the back of the house, 
accompanied by a peculiar whistle, immediately under the 
window. 

“ That’s ‘ Headlong Hal,’ for a penny ! He never can learn 
the cat’s tread ! ” thought the crone, as she arose and withdrew 
the bolt of the back door. 

A little dark-skinned, black-eyed, black-haired, thin and 
wiry man came hurrying in, exclaiming : 

“ How now, old girl — supper ready ! ” 

She shook her head, pointed to the roasting beef, lifted up 
both hands with the ten fingers spread out twice, and then 
made a rotary motion with one arm. 

“ Oh, you mean it will be done in twenty turns ; but hang 
me if I understand your dumb show half the time ! Have none 
of the men come yet? ” 

She put her fingers together, flung her hands widely apart 
in all directions, brought them slowly together again and 
pointed to the supper table. 

“ Um! That is to say they are dispersed about their 
business, but will all be here to-night ? ” 

She nodded. 

“ Where’s the capt’n ? ” 

She pointed over her left shoulder upwards, placed her two 
hands out broad from her temples, then made a motion as of 
lifting and carrying a basket, and displaying goods. 

“ Humph ! humph ! gone to Tip-top to sell goods disguised 
as a peddler ! ” 

She nodded. And before he could put another question a 
low, soft mew was heard at the door. 

“ There’s ‘ Stealthy Steve! ” — he might walk with hob-nailed 
high- lows upon a gravelly road, and you would never hear his 
footfall,” said the man, as the door noiselessly opened and 
shut, a soft-footed, low-voiced, subtle-looking mulatto entered 
the kitchen, and gave good evening to its occupants. 


THE OUTLAW’S RENDEZVOUS. 


139 


“ Ha ! I’m devilish glad you’ve come, Steve, for hang me 
if I’m not tired to death trying to talk to this crone, who, tp 
the charms of old age and ugliness, adds- that of dumbness. 
Seen the cap’n?” 

“ No, he’s gone out to hear the people talk, and find out 
what they think of him.” 

Hal burst into a loud and scornful laugh, saying : “ I should 
think it would not require much seeking to discover that ! ” 

Here the old woman came forward, and, by signs, managed 
to inquire whether he had brought her “ the tea.” 

Steve drew a packet from his pocket, saying, softly : 

“Yes, mother, when I was in Spicer’s store I saw this lying 
with other things on the counter, and, remembering you, quietly 
put it into my pocket.” 

The old crone’s eyes danced. She seized the packet, patted 
the excellent thief on the shoulder, wagged her head deridingly 
at the delinquent one, and hobbled off to prepare her favorite 
beverage. 

While she was thus occupied the whistle was once more 
heard at the door, followed by the entrance of a man decided- 
ly the most repulsive looking of the whole party — a man one 
having a full pocket would scarcely like to meet on a lonely 
road in a dark night. In form he was of Dutch proportions, 
short but stout, with a large, round head covered with stiff, 
sandy hair ; broad, flat face ; coarse features, pale, half-closed 
eyes, and an expression of countenance strangely made up of 
elements as opposite as they were forbidding — a mixture of 
stupidity and subtlety, cowardice and ferocity, caution and 
cruelty. His name in the gang was Demon Dick, a sobriquet 
of which he was eminently deserving and characteristically 
proud. 

He came in sulkily, neither saluting the company nor return- 
ing their salutations. He pulled a chair to the fire, threw him- 
self into it, and ordered the old woman to draw him a mug of ale. 

“ Dick’s in a bad humor to-night,” murmured Steve, softly. 

“When was he ever in a good one?” roughly broke forth 
Hal. 

“H-sh ! ” said Steve, glancing at Dick, who, with a hideous 
expression, was listening to the conversation. 

“There’s the cap’n! ” exclaimed Hal, as a ringing footstep 
sounded outside, followed by the abrupt opening of the door 
and entrance of the leader. 


140 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


Setting down a large basket, and throwing off a broad- 
brimmed Quaker hat and broad-skirted overcoat, Black 
Donald stood roaring with laughter. 

Black Donald, from his great stature, might have been a 
giant walked out of the age of fable into the middle of the 
nineteenth century. From his stature alone, he might have 
been chosen leader of this band of desperadoes. He stood six 
feet eight inches in his boots, and was stout and muscular in 
proportion. He had a well-formed, stately head, fine aquiline 
features, dark complexion, strong, steady, dark eyes, and an 
abundance of long curling black hair and beard that would 
have driven to despair a Broadway beau, broken the heart of a 
Washington belle, or made his own fortune in any city of 
America as a French count or a German baron ! He had de- 
cidedly “ the air noble and distinguished.” 

While he threw his broad brim in one direction and his 
broad coat in another, and gave way to peals of laughter, 
Headlong Hal said : 

“ Cap’n, I don’t know what you think of it, but I think it 
Just as churlish to laugh alone as to get drunk in solitude.” 

" Oh, you shall laugh ! You shall all laugh ! Wait until I 
tell you ! But first, answer me : Does not my broad-skirted 
gray coat and broad-brimmed gray hat make me look about 
twelve inches shorter and broader? ” 

“ That’s so, cap’n S ” 

“ And when I bury my black beard and chin deep down in 
this drab neckcloth, and pull the broad brim low over my 
black hair and eyes, I look as mild and respectable as William 
Penn?” 

“ Yea, verily, friend Donald,” said Hal. 

“ Well, in this meek guise I went peddling to-day ! 

“ Aye, cap’n, we knew it ; and you’ll go once too often ! ” 

“ I have gone just once too often ! ” 

“ I knew it ! ” 

“ We said so ! ” 

“ D n ! ” were some of the ejaculations as the members 

of the band sprang to their feet and handled secret arms. 

“ Pshaw ! put up your knives and pistols ! There is no 
danger. I was not traced — our rendezvous is still a secret for 
which the government would pay a thousand dollars ! ” 

“ How, then, do you say that you went once too often, 
cap’n? ” 


THE OUTLAW’S RENDEZVOUS. 141 

u It was inaccurate ! I should have said that I had gone 
for the last time, for that it would not be safe to venture again. 
Come — I must tell you the whole story ! But in the mean 
time let us have supper. Mother Raven, dish the beef ! Dick, 
draw the ale ! Hal, cut the bread ! Steve, carve ! Bestir your- 
selves, bum you, or you shall have no story ! ” exclaimed the 
captain, flinging himself into a chair at the head of the table. 

When his orders had been obeyed, and the men were gath- 
ered around the table, and the first draught of ale had been 
quaffed by all, Black Donald asked : 

“ Where do you think I went peddling to-day? ” 

“ Devil knows,” said Hal. 

“ That’s a secret between the Demon and Black Donald ” 
said Dick. 

“ Hush ! he’s about to tell us,” murmured Steve. 

“ Wooden heads! you’d never guess ! I went — I went to — 
do you give it up? I went right straight into the lion’s jaws — 
not only into tne very clutches, but into the very teeth, and down 
the very throat of the lion, and have come out as safe as Jonah 
from the whale’s belly ! In a word, I have been up to the 
county seat where the court is now in session, and sold cigar 
cases, snuff boxes and smoking caps to the grand and petit jury, 
and a pair of gold spectacles to tne learned judge himself ! ” 

“ No ! ” 

“ No ! ! ” 

“ No! ! ! ” exclaimed Hal, Steve and Dick in a breath. 

‘‘Yes! and, moreover, I offered a pair of patent steel spring 
handcuffs to the sheriff, John Keepe, in person, and pressed 
him to purchase them, assuring him that he would have oc- 
casion for their use if ever he caught that grand rascal, Black 
Donald ! ” 

“ 1 Ah, the atrocious villain, if I thought I should ever have 
the satisfaction of springing them upon his wrists, I’d buy them 
at my own proper cost ! ’ said the sheriff, taking them in his 
hands and examining them curiously. 

“ ‘ Ah ! he’s a man of Belial, that same Black Donald — thee’d 
better buy the handcuffs, John,’ said I. 

“ 4 Nay, friend, I don’t know; and as for Black Donald, we 
have some hopes of taking the wretch at last ! ’ said the simple 
gentleman. 

“ ‘Ah, verily, John, that’s a good hearing for peaceful trav- 
elers like myself,’ said I. 


142 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ * Excellent ! excellent ! For when that fell marauder once 
swings from the gallows ’ 

“ * His neck will be broken, John? * 

“ ‘ Yes, friend ! yes, probably ; after which honest men may 
travel in safety ! Ah, never have I adjusted a hempen cravat 
about the throat of any aspirant for such an honor with less 
pain than I shall officiate at the last toilet of Black Donald ! * 

“ 1 If thee catch him ! ’ 

“ 1 Exactly, friend, if I catch him ; but the additional re- 
ward offered by Major Warfield, together with the report that 
he often frequents our towns and villages in disguise, will stim- 
ulate people to renewed efforts to discover and capture him/ 
said the sheriff. 

“ ‘ Ah ! that will be a great day for Alleghany. And when 
Black Donald is hanged, I shall make an effort to be present 
at the solemnity myself ! ’ 

“ 1 Do, friend/ said the sheriff, ‘ and I will see to getting you 
a good place for witnessing the proceedings.’ 

“ ‘ I have no doubt thee will, John — a very good place ! 
And I assure thee that there will not be one present more in- 
terested in those proceedings than myself/ said I. 

“ ‘ Of course, that is very natural, for there is no one more 
in danger from these marauders than men of your itinerant 
calling. Good heavens ! It was but three years ago a ped- 
dler was robbed and murdered in the woods around the Hidden 
House.’ 

“ ‘ Just so, John,’ said I; ‘ and it’s my opinion that often 
when I’ve been traveling along the road at night Black Donald 
hasn’t been far off ! But tell me, John, so that I may have a 
chance of earning that thousand dollars — what disguises does 
this son of Moloch take ? ’ 

“ 4 Why, friend, it is said that he appears as a Methodist mis- 
sionary, going about selling tracts ; and sometimes as a knife 
grinder, and sometimes simulates your calling, as a peddler ! ’ 
said the unsuspicious sheriff. 

“ I thought, however, it was time to be off, so I said ‘ Thee 
had better let me sell thee those handcuffs, John. Allow me ! 
I will show thee their beautiful machinery ! Hold out thy 
wrists, if thee pleases, John.’ 

“ The unsuspicious officer, with a face brimful of interest, 
held out his wrists for experiment. 

“ I snapped the ornaments on them in a little less than no 


GABRIEL LE NOIR. 


143 

Jme, and took up my pack and disappeared before the sheriff 
had collected his faculties and found out his position ! ” 

“ Ha, ha, ha! Haw, haw, haw! Ho, ho, ho!” laughed 
the outlaws, in every key of laughter. “ And so our captain, 
instead of being pinioned by the sheriff, turned the tables and 
actually manacled his honor ! Hip, hip, hurrah ! Three 
times three for the merry captain, that manacled the sheriff ! ” 
“ Hush, burn ye ! There’s some one coming ! ” exclaimed 
the captain, rising and listening. “ It is Le Noir, who was to 
meet me here to-night on important business ! ” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

GABRIEL LE NOIR. 

Naught’s had ! all’s spent ! 

When our desires are gained without content. 

—Shakespeare. 

“The colonel ! ” exclaimed the three men in a breath, as 
the door opened and a tall, handsome and distinguished-look- 
ing gentleman, wrapped in a black military cloak and having 
his black beaver pulled low over his brow, strode into the 
room. 

All arose upon their feet to greet him as though he had been 
a prince. 

With a haughty wave of the hand, he bade them resume 
their seats, and beckoning their leader, said : 

“ Donald, I would have a word with you ! ” 

“ At your command, colonel ! ” said the outlaw, rising and 
taking a candle and leading the way into the adjoining room, 
the same in which fourteen years before old Granny Grewell 
and the child had been detained. 

Setting the candle upon the mantelpiece, Black Donald 
stood waiting for the visitor to open the conversation, a thing 
that the latter seemed in no hurry to do, for he began walking 
up and down the room in stern silence. 

“You seem disturbed, colonel,” at length said the outlaw. 

“ I am disturbed — more than disturbed ! I am suffering ! ” 

“Suffering, colonel?” 

“Aye, suffering! From what think you? The pangs of 
remorse ! ” 


144 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


« Remorse ! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ! ” laughed the outlaw till 
all the rafters rangf 

“ Aye, man, you may laugh ; but I repeat that I am tortured 
with remorse ! And for what do you suppose ? For those acts 
of self-preservation that fanatics and fools would stigmatize as 
crimes? No, my good fellow, no ! but for one 1 unacted 
crime ! ’ ” 

“ I told your honor so ! ” cried the outlaw, triumphantly. 

“ Donald, when I go to church, as I do constantly, I hear 
the preacher prating of repentance ; but man, I never knew 
the meaning of the word until recently.” 

“ And I can almost guess what it is that has enlightened 
your honor? ” said the outlaw. 

“ Yes, it is that miserable old woman and babe ! Donald, in 
every vein of my soul I repent not having silenced them both 
forever while they were yet in my power ! ” 

“ Just so, colonel; the dead never comeback, or if they do, 
are not recognized as property holders in this world. I wish 
your honor had taken my advice and sent that woman and 
child on a longer journey.” 

“ Donald, I was younger then than now. I — shrank from 
bloodshed,” said the man in a husky voice. 

“ Bah ! superstition ! Bloodshed — blood is shed every day ! 
‘We kill to live ! ’ say the butchers. So do we. Every crea- 
ture preys upon some other creature weaker than himself — the 
big beasts eat up the little ones — artful men live on the sim- 
ple ! So be it ! The world was made for the strong and cun- 
ning ! Let the weak and foolish look to themselves ! ” said 
the outlaw, with a loud laugh. 

While he spoke the visitor resumed his rapid, restless strid- 
ing up and down the room. Presently he came again to the 
side of the robber and whispered : 

“ Donald, that girl has returned to the neighborhood, brought 
back by old Warfield. My son met her in the woods a month 
ago, fell into conversation with her, heard her history, or as 
much of it as she herself knows. Her name is Capitola ! She 
is the living image of her mother ! How she came under the 
notice of old Warfield — to what extent he is acquainted with 
her birth and rights — what proofs may be in his possession I 
know not. All that I have discovered after the strictest inquiry 
that I was enabled to make, is this — that the old beggar woman 
that died and was buried at Major Warfield’s expense, was no 


GABRIEL LE NOIR. 


145 


other than Nancy Grewell, returned— that the night before she 
died she sent for Major Warfield and had a long talk with him, 
and that shortly afterward the old scoundrel traveled to the 
north and brought home this girl ! ” 

“ Humph ! it is an ugly business, your honor, especially with 

your honor’s little prejudice against ” 

“ Donald, this is no time for weakness ! I have gone too far 
to stop ! Capitola must die ! ” 

“ That’s so, colonel — the pity is that it wasn’t found out 
fourteen years ago. It is so much easier to pinch a baby’s 
nose until it falls asleep than to stifle a young girl’s shrieks 
and cries — then the baby would not have been missed — but 
the young girl will be sure to be inquired after.” 

“ I know that there will be additional risk, but there shall 
be the larger compensation, larger than your most sanguine 
hopes would suggest. Donald, listen ! ” said the colonel, 
stooping and whispering low — “ the day that you bring me un- 
deniable proofs that Capitola Le Noir is dead, you finger one 
thousand dollars ! ” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! ” laughed the outlaw, in angry scorn. “ Cap- 
itola Le Noir is the sole heiress of a fortune — in land, negroes, 
coal mines, iron foundries, railway shares and bank stock of 
half a million of dollars — and you ask me to get her out of 
your way for a thousand dollars — I’ll do it — you know I will ! 
Ha, ha, ha ! ” 

“ Why, the government doesn’t value your whole carcass at 
more than I offer you for the temporary use of your hands, 
you villain ! ” frowned the colonel. 

“ No ill names, your honor — between us they are like kicking 
guns — apt to recoil ! ” 

“You forget that you are in my power ! ” 

“ I remember that your honor is in mine ! Ha, ha, ha ! 
The day Black Donald stands at the bar — the honorable Col- 
onel Le Noir will probably be beside him ! ” 

“ Enough of this ! Confound you, do you take me for one 
of your pals? ” 

“No, your worship, my pals are too poor to hire their work 
done, but then they are brave enough to do it themselves.” 

“ Enough of this, I say ! Name the price of this new 
service ! ” 

“ Ten thousand dollars — five thousand in advance — the re- 
mainder when the deed is accomplished.” 

10 


146 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Extortioner ! Shameless, ruthless extortioner ! 0 

“ Your honor will fall into that vulgar habit of calling ih 
names. It isn’t worth while ! It doesn’t pay ! If your 
honor doesn’t like my terms, you needn’t employ me. What 
is certain is that I cannot work for less ! ” 

“ You take advantage of my necessities.” 

“Not at all; but the truth is, Colonel, that I am tired of 
this sort of life, and wish to retire from active business. Be- 
sides, every man has his ambition, and I have mine. I wish to 
emigrate to the glorious West, settle, marry, turn my attention 
to politics, be elected to Congress, then to the Senate, then to 
the Cabinet, then to the White House — for success in which 
career, I flatter myself nature and education have especially 
fitted me. Ten uousand dollars will give me a fair start ! 
Many a successful politician, your honor knows, has started on 
less character and less capital ! ” 

To this impudent slander the colonel made no answer. 
With his arms folded and his head bowed upon his chest he 
walked moodily up and down the length of the apartment. 
Then muttering, “ Why should I hesitate?” he came to the 
side of the outlaw and said : 

“ I agree to your terms — accomplish the work and the sum 
shall be yours. Meet me here on to-morrow evening to receive 
the earnest money. In the meantime, in order to make sure 
of the girl’s identity, it will be necessary for you to get sight of 
her beforehand, at her home, if possible — find out her habits 
and her haunts — where she walks, or rides, when she is most 
likely to be alone, and so on. Be very careful ! A mistake 
might be fatal.” 

“ Your honor may trust me.” 

“And now good-by — remember, to-morrow evening,” said 
the colonel, as, wrapping himself closely in his dark cloak, and 
pulling his hat low over his eyes, he passed out by the back 
passage door and left the house. 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! Why does that man think it needful to look 
so villainous? If I were to go about in such a bandit-like 
dress as that, every child I met would take me for — what I 
am ! ” laughed Black Donald, returning to his comrades. 

During the next hour other members of the band dropped 
in until some twenty men were collected together in the large 
kitchen around the long table, where the remainder of the 
night was spent in revelry. 


THE SMUGGLER AND CAPITOLA. 


H7 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE SMUGGLER AND CAPITOLA. 

Come buy of me ! come buy ! come buy ! 

Buy, lads, or else the lassies cry ; 

I have lawns as white as snow ; 

Silk as black as e’er was crow ; 

Gloves as sweet as damask roses ; 

Veils for faces ; musk for noses ; 

Pins and needles made of steel ; 

All you need from head to heel. 

—Shakespeare. 

“ If I am not allowed to walk or ride out alone, I shall * gang 
daft!’ I know I shall ! Was ever such a dull, lonesome, hum- 
drum place as this same Hurricane Hall? ” complained Cap, 
as she sat sewing with Mrs. Condiment in the housekeeper’s 
room, 

“You don’t like this quiet country life?” inquired Mrs. 
Condiment. 

“ No ! no better than I do a quiet country graveyard ! I 
don’t want to return to dust before my time, I tell you ! ” said 
Cap, yawning dismally over her work. 

“ I hear you, vixen ! ” roared the voice of Old Hurricane, 
who presently came storming in and saying : 

“ If you want a ride go and get ready quickly, and come 
with me, I am going down to the water mill, please the Lord, 
to warn Hopkins off the premises, worthless villain ! Had my 
grain there since yesterday morning and hasn’t sent it home 
yet ! Shan’t stay in my mill another month 1 Come, Cap, 
be off with you and get ready ! ” 

The girl did not need a second bidding but flew to prepare 
herself, while the old man ordered the horses. 

In ten minutes more Capitola and Major Warfield cantered 
away. 

They had been gone about two hours, and it was almost time 
to expect their return, and Mrs. Condiment had just given 
orders for the tea table to be set, when Wool came into her 
room and said there was a sailor at the hall door with some 


i 4 8 THE HIDDEN HAND. 

beautiful foreign goods which he wished to show to the ladies 
of the house. 

“ A sailor, Wool — a sailor with foreign goods for sale ? I 
am very much afraid he’s one of these smugglers I’ve heard 
tell of, and I’m not sure about the right of buying from smug- 
glers ! However, I suppose there’s no harm in looking at 
his goods. You may call him in, Wool,” said the old lady, 
tampering with temptation. 

“ He do look like a smudgeler, dat’s a fact,” said Wool 
whose ideas of the said craft were purely imaginary. 

“ I don’t know him to be a smuggler, and it’s wrong to 
fudge, particularly beforehand,” said the old lady, nursing 
ideas of rich silks and satins, imported free of duty and sold 
at half price, and trying to deceive herself. 

While she was thus thinking the door opened and Wool 
ushered in a stout, jolly-looking tar, dressed in a white pea- 
jacket, duck trousers and tarpaulin hat, and carrying in his 
hand a large pack. He took off his hat and scraped his foot 
behind him, and remained standing before the housekeeper 
with his head tied up in a red bandana handkerchief and his 
chin sunken in a red comforter that was wound around his 
throat* 

“ Sit down, my good man, and rest while you show me the 
goods,” said Mrs. Condiment, who, whether he were smuggler 
or not, was inclined to show the traveler all lawful kindness. 

The sailor scraped his foot again, sat down on a low chair, 
put his hat on one side, drew the pack before him, untied it 
and first displayed a rich golden-hued fabric, saying : 

“ Now here, ma’am, is a rich China silk I bought in the 
streets of Shanghai, where the long-legged chickens come from. 
Come, now, I’ll ship it off cheap ” 

“ Oh, that is a great deal too gay and handsome for an old 
woman like me,” said Mrs. Condiment. 

“ Well, ma’am, perhaps there’s young ladies in the fleet ? 
Now, this would rig out a smart young craft as gay as a clip- 
per ! Better take it, ma’am. I’ll ship it off cheap ! ” 

“ Wool ! ” said Mrs. Condiment, turning to the servant, “ go 
down to the kitchen and call up the house servants — perhaps 
they would like to buy something.” 

As soon as Wool had gone and the good woman was left 
alone with the sailor, she stooped and said : 

“ I did not wish to inquire before the servant man, but, my 


THE SMUGGLER AND CAPITOLA. 149 

good sir, I do not know whether it is right to buy from 
you ! ” 

“ Why so, ma’am? ” asked the sailor, with an injured look. 

“Why, I am afraid — I am very much afraid you risk your 
life and liberty in an unlawful trade ! ” 

“ Oh, ma’am, on my soul, these things are honestly come 
by, and you have no right to accuse me!” said the sailor, 
with a look of subdued indignation. 

“ I know I haven’t, and I meant no harm, but did these 
goods pass through the custom house ? ” 

“ Oh, ma’am, now, that’s not a fair question ! ” 

“ It is as I suspected ! I cannot buy from you, my good 
friend. I do not judge you — I don’t know whether smuggling 
is right or wrong, but I know that it is unlawful, and I cannot 
feel tree to encourage any man in a traffic in which he risks 
his life and liberty, poor fellow ! ” 

“ Oh, ma’am,” said the sailor, evidently on the brink of 
bursting into laughter, “ if we risk our lives, sure, it’s our own 
business, and if you’ve no scruples on your own account, you 
needn’t have any on ours ! ” 

While he was speaking the sound of many shuffling feet was 
heard along the passage, and the room was soon half filled 
with colored people come in to deal with the sailor. 

“ You may look at these goods, but you must not buy any- 
thing.” 

“Lor’ missus, why?” asked little Pitapat. 

“ Because I want you to lay out all your money with my 
friend Mr. Crash at Tip-Top.” 

“But after de good gemman has had de trouble?” said 
Pitapat. 

“ He shall have his supper and a mug of ale and go on his 
journey,” said Mrs. Condiment. 

The sailor arose and scraped his foot behind him in ac- 
knowledgment of this kindness and began to unpack his wares 
and display them all over the floor. 

And while the servants in wonder and delight examined these 
treasures and inquired their prices, a fresh young voice was 
heard carolling along the hall, and the next moment Capitola, 
in her green riding habit and hat entered the room. 

She turned her mischievous gray eyes about, pursed up her 
lips and asked Mrs. Condiment if she were about to open ^ 
fancy bazaar. 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


150 

“ No, my dear Miss Capitola ! It is a sailor with foreign 
goods for sale,” answered the old lady. 

“ A sailor with foreign goods for sale ! Umph ! yes, I 
know. Isn’t he a smuggler ? ” whispered Capitola. 

“ Indeed. I’m afraid so, my dear — in fact, he don’t deny 
it ! ” whispered back the matron. 

“ Well, I think it’s strange a man that smuggles can’t lie ! 99 
“ Well, I don’t know, my dear — may be he thinks it’s no 
harm to smuggle, and he knows it would be a sin to lie. But 
where is your uncle, Miss Capitola?” 

“ Gone around to the stable to blow Jem up for mounting 
on a lame horse. He swears Jem shall find another master 
before to-morrow’s sun sets. But now I want to talk to that 
bold buccaneer. Say, you sir, show me your foreign goods — 
I’m very fond of smugglers myself ! ” 

“ You are right, my dear young lady ! You would give poor 
sailors some little chance to turn an honest penny ! ” 

ts Certainly ! Brave fellows ! Show me that splendid 
fabric that shines like cloth of gold.” 

“ This, my young lady, this is a real, genuine China silk. I 
bought it myself in my last cruise in the streets of Shanghai, 

where the long-legged chickens ” 

“ And fast young men come from ! I know the place ! 
I’ve been along there ! ” interrupted Capitola, her gray eyes 
glittering with mischief. 

“ This you will perceive, young lady, is an article that can- 
not be purchased anywhere except ” 

“ From the manufactory of foreign goods in the city of 
New York, or from their traveling agents ! ” 

“ Oh, my dear young lady, how you wrong me ! This 
article came from ” 

“ The factory of Messrs. Hocus & Pocus, comer of Can’t 
and Come-it Street, City of Gotham ! ” 

“ Oh, my dear young lady ” 

“ Look here, my brave buccaneer, I know all about it ! I 
told you I’d been along there ! ” said the girl, and, turning to 
Mrs. Condiment, she said. “ See here, my dear, good soul, 
if you want to buy that ‘ India ’ silk that you are looking at so 
longingly, you may do it with a safe conscience ! Tme, it 
never passed through the custom house — because it was made 
in New York. I know all about it ! All these * foreign 
goods ’ are manufactured at the north and sent by agents all 


THE SMUGGLER AND CAPITOLA. 151 

over the country. These agents dress and talk like sailors and 
assume a mysterious manner on purpose to be suspected of 
smuggling, because they know well enough fine ladies will buy 
much quicker and pay much more if they only fancy they are 
cheating Uncle Sam in buying foreign goods from a smuggler 
at half price.” 

“ So, then, you are not a smuggler, after all ! ” said Mrs. 
Condiment, looking almost regretfully at the sailor. 

“ w hy, ma’am, you know I told you you were accusing me 
wrongfully.” 

“ Well, but really, now, there was something about you that 
looked sort of suspicious.” 

“ What did I tell you ? A look put on on purpose,” said Cap. 

“ Well, he knows that if he wanted to pass for a smuggler, 
it didn’t take here,” said Mrs. Condiment. 

“ No, that it didn’t ! ” muttered the object of these com- 
mentaries. 

“ Well, my good man, since you are, after all, an honest 
peddler, just hand me that silk and don’t ask me an unreason- 
able price for it, because I’m a judge of silks and I won’t pay 
more than it is worth,” said the old lady. 

“ Madam, I leave it to your own conscience ! You shall give 
me just what you think it’s worth.” 

“ Humph ! that’s too fair by half 1 I begin to think this 
fellow is worse than he seems ! ” said Capitola to herself. 

After a little hesitation a price was agreed upon and the 
dress bought. 

Then the servants received permission to invest their little 
change in ribbons, handkerchiefs, tobacco, snuff, or whatever 
they thought they needed. When the purchases were all made 
and the peddler had done up his diminished pack and re- 
placed his hat upon his head and was preparing to leave, Mrs. 
Condiment said : 

“ My good man, it is getting very late, and we do not like 
to see a traveler leave our house at this hour — pray remain un- 
til morning, and then, after an early breakfast, you can pursue 
your way in safety.” 

“ Thank you kindly, ma’am, but I must be far on my road 
to-night,” said the peddler. 

“ But, my good man, you are a stranger in this part of the 
country and don’t know the danger you run,” said the house- 
keeper. 


152 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Danger, ma’am, in this quiet country ? ” 

“ Oh, dear, yes, my good man, particularly with your valu- 
able pack — oh, my good gracious ! ” cried the old lady, with 
an appalled look. 

“ Indeed, ma’am, you — you make me sort of uneasy ! What 
danger can there be for a poor, peaceful peddler pursuing his 
path?” 

“ Oh, my good soul, may heaven keep you from — Black 
Donald ! ” 

“ Black Donald — who’s he ? ” 

“ Oh, my good man, he’s the awfullest villain that ever went 
unhung ! ” 

“ Black Donald ? Black Donald? Never heard that name 
before in my life? Why is the fellow called Black Donald? ” 

“ Oh, sir, he’s called Black Donald for his black soul, black 
deeds and— and — also, I believe, for his jet black hair and 
beard.” 

“ ‘ Oh, my countrymen, what a falling up was there,’ ” ex- 
claimed Capitola at this anti-climax.” 

“And how shall I keep from meeting this villain?” asked 
the peddler. 

“ Oh, sir, how can I tell you? You never can form an idea 
where he is or where he isn’t ! Only think, he may be in our 
midst any time, and we not know it ! Why, only yesterday 
the desperate villain handcuffed the very sheriff in the very 
courtyard ! Yet I wonder the sheriff did not know him at 
once ! For my own part, I’m sure I should know Black 
Donald the minute I clapped my two looking eyes on him ! ” 

“ Should you, ma’am? ” 

“ Yes, indeed, by his long, black hair and beard ! They 
say it is half a yard long — now a man of such a singular ap- 
pearance as that must be easily recognized ! ” 

“ Of course ! Then you never met this wretch face to 
face? ” 

“He? Me? Am I standing here alive? Do you suppose 
I should be standing here if ever I had met that demon? 
Why, man, I never leave this house, even in the day time, 
except with two bull dogs and a servant, for fear I should 
meet Black Donald ! I know if ever I should meet that 
demon, I should drop dead with terror ! I feel I should ! ” 

“ But maybe, now, ma’am, the man may not be so bad, 
after all? Even the devil is not so bad as he is painted.” 


THE SMUGGLER AND CAPITOLA. 153 

“ The devil may not be, but Black Donald is ! 99 

“What do you think of this outlaw, young lady?” asked the 
peddler, turning to Capitola. 

“Why, I like him ! ” said Cap. 

“ You do ! ” 

“ Yes, I do ! I like men whose very names strike terror 
into the hearts of commonplace people ! ” 

“Oh, Miss Black ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Condiment. 

“ Yes, I do, ma’am. And if Black Donald were only as hon- 
est as he is brave I should quite adore him. So there ! And 
if there is one person in the world I should like to see it is 
Black Donald ! ” 

“ Do you really wish to see him ? ” asked the peddler, 
looking intently into the half earnest, half satirical face of the 
girl. 

“ Yes, I do wish to see him above all things ! ” 

“ And do you know what happened the rash girl who 
wished to see the devil ! ” 

“ No — what did? ” 

“ She saw him ! ” 

“ Oh, if that’s all, I dare it ! And if wishing will bring me 
the sight of this notorious outlaw, lo, I wish it ! I wish to 
see Black Donald ! ” said Capitola. 

The peddler deliberately arose and put down his pack and 
his hat ; then he suddenly tore off the scarf from his neck 
and the handkerchief from his head, lifted his chin and shook 
loose a great rolling mass of black hair and beard, drew him- 
self up, struck an attitude, called up a look, and exclaimed : 

“ Behold Black Donald ! ” 

With a piercing shriek, Mrs. Condiment swooned and fell 
to the floor; the poor negroes, men and maids, were struck 
dumb and motionless with consternation ; Capitola gazed for 
one lost moment in admiration and curiosity ; in the mean- 
time Black Donald quickly resumed his disguises, took up 
his pack and walked out of the room. 

Capitola was the first to recover her presence of mind ; the 
instinct of the huntress possessed her ; starting forward, she 
exclaimed : 

“ Pursue him ! catch him ! come with me ! Cowards, will 
you let a robber and murderer escape? ” and «he ran out and 
overtook the outlaw in the middle of the hall. With the 
agile leap of a little terrier she sprang up behind him, seized 


154 


THE BIDDEN HAND. 


the thick collar of his pea-jacket with both hands, and, draw- 
ing up her feet, hung there with all her weight, crying : 

“ Help ! murder ! murder ! help ! Come to my aid ! I’ve 
caught Black Donald ! ” 

He could have killed her instantly in any one of a dozen 
ways. He could have driven in her temples with a blow of 
his sledge-hammer fist ; he could have broken her neck with 
the grip of his iron fingers ; he only wished to shake her off 
without hurting her — a difficult task, for there she hung, a 
dead weight, at the collar of hjs coat at the back of his neck. 

“ Oh, very well ! ” he cried, laughing aloud ! “ Such ad- 

hesiveness I never saw ! You ;tick to me like a wife to her 
husband. So if you won’t let go, I shall have to take you 
along, that’s all ! So here I go like Christian with his bundle 
of sin on his back ! ” 

And loosing the upper button of his pea-jacket so as to 
give him more breath, and, putting down his peddler’s pack 
to relieve himself as much as possible, the outlaw strode 
through the hall door, down the steps, and down the ever- 
green avenue leading to the woods. 

Capitola still clinging to the back of his coat-collar, with 
feet drawn up, a dead weight, and still crying : 

“ Help ! Murder ! I’ve caught Black Donald, and I’ll die 
before I’ll let him go ! ” 

“You’re determined to be an outlaw’s bride, that’s certain ! 
Well, I’ve no particular objection ! ” cried Black Donald, 
roaring with laughter as he strode on. 

It was a “ thing to see, not hear ” — that brave, rash, resolute 
imp clinging like a terrier, or a crab, or a briar, on to the 
back of that gigantic ruffian, whom, if she had no strength to 
stop, she was determined not to release. 

They had nearly reached the foot of the descent, when a 
great noise and hallooing was heard behind them. It was 
the negroes, -who, having recovered from their panic, and 
armed themselves with guns, pistols, swords, pokers, tongs and 
pitchforks, were now in hot pursuit ! 

And cries of “ Black Donald ! Black Donald ! Black Don- 
ald ! ” filled the air. 

“ I’ve got him ! I’ve got him ! help ! help ! quick ! quick ! ” 
screamed Capitola, clinging closer than ever. 

Though still roaring with laughter at the absurdity of his 
position. Black Donald strode on faster than before, and was 


THE SMUGGLER AND CAPITOLA. 155 

in a fair way of escape, when lo ! suddenly coming up the 
path in front of him, he met — 

Old Hurricane ! ! ! 

As the troop of miscellaneously armed negroes running 
down the hill were still making eve hideous with yells of 
“ Black Donald ! ” and Capitola still clinging and hanging on 
at the back of his neck, continued to cry, “ I’ve caught him ! 
help ! help ! ” something like the truth flashed in a blinding 
way upon Old Hurricane’s perceptions. 

Roaring forth something between a recognition and a 
defiance, the old man threw up his fat arms, and as fast as 
age and obesity would permit, ran up the hill to intercept the 
outlaw. 

There was no time for trifling now ! The army of negroei 
was at his heels ; the old veteran in his path ; the girl clinging 
a dead weight to his jacket behind. An idea suddenly struck 
him which he wondered had not done so before — quickly 
unbuttoning and throwing off his garment he dropped both 
jacket and captor behind him on the ground. 

And before Capitola had picked herself up, Black Donald, 
bending his huge head and shoulders forward and making a 
battering ram of himself, ran with all his force and butted Old 
Hurricane in the stomach, pitching him into the horse pond, 
leaped over the park fence and disappeared in the forest. 

What a scene ! what a row followed the escape and flight of 
the famous outlaw ! 

Who could imagine, far less describe it ! — a general tempest 
in which every individual was a particular storm ! 

There stood the baffled Capitola, extricating her head from 
the pea-jacket, and with her eyes fairly flashing out sparks of 
anger, exclaiming, “ Oh, wretches ! wretches that you are ! 
If you’d been worth salt you could have caught him while I 
clung to him so ! ” 

There wallowed Old Hurricane, spluttering, floundering, 
half drowning, in the horse pond, making the most frantic 
efforts to curse and swear as he struggled to get out. 

There stood the crowd of negroes brought to a sudden 
stand by a panic of horror at seeing the dignity of their 
master so outraged ! 

And, most frenzied of all, there ran Wool around and around 
the margin of the pond, in a state of violent perplexity how 
to get his master out without half drowning himself ! 


156 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Blurr-urr-rr ! flitch ! flitch ! Blurr !-ur ! ” spluttered and 
sneezed and strangled, Old Hurricane, as he floundered to 
the edge of the pond — “ Burr-urr-rr ! Help me out, you 
scoundrel ! I’ll break every bone in your — flitch ! body ! 
Do you hear me — ca-snish ! — villain you ! flitch ! flitch ! 
ca-snish ! oh-h ! ” 

Wool with his eyes starting from his head and his hair 
standing up with terrors of all sorts, plunged at last into the 
water and pulled his old master up upon his feet. 

“ Ca-snish ! ca-snish ! blurr-rr ! flitch ! — what are you 
gaping there for as if you’d raised the devil, you crowd of 
born fools ! ” bawled Old Hurricane as soon as he could get 
the water out of his mouth and nose — “ what are you standing 
there for ! After him ! After him, I say ! Scour the woods 
in every direction ! His freedom to any man who brings me 
Black Donald, dead or alive — Wool ! ” 

“ Yes, sir,” said that functionary, who was busying himself 
with squeezing the water out of his master’s garments. 

“Wool, let me alone? Take the fleetest horse in the 
stable ! Ride for your life to the Court House ! Tell 
Keepe to have new bills posted everywhere, offering an addi- 
tional five hundred dollars for the apprehension of that — that 
— that ” — for the want of a word strong enough to express 
himself, Old Hurricane suddenly stopped, and for the lack of 
his stick to make silence emphatic, he seized his gray hair with 
both hands and groaned aloud ! 

Wool waited no second bidding, but flew to do his errand. 

Capitola came to the old man’s side, saying : 

“ Uncle, hadn’t you better hurry home — you’ll take cold.” 

“ Cold ? Cold ! demmy ! I never was so hot in my life ! ” 
cried the old man ; “ but, demmy ! you’re right ! Run to the 
house, Capitola, and tell Mrs. Condiment to have me a full 
suit of dry clothes before the fire in my chamber. Go, child ! 
every man-jack is off after Black Donald, and there is nobody 
but you and Condiment and the housemaids to take care of 
me. Stop ! look for my stick first. Where did that black 
demon throw it? Demmy! I’d as well be without my legs ! ” 

Capitola picked up the old man’s cane and hat and put the 
one on his head and the other in his hand, and then hastened 
to find Mrs. Condiment and tell her to prepare to receive her 
half-drowned patron. She found the old lady scarcely re- 
covered from the effects of her recent fright, but ready on the 


THE SMUGGLER AND CAPITOLA. 157 

instant to make every effort in behalf of Old Hurricane, who 
presently after arrived dripping wet at the house. 

Leaving the old gentleman to the care of his housekeeper, 
we must follow Black Donald. 

Hatless and coatless, with his long black hair and beard 
blown by the wind, the outlaw made tracks for his retreat — 
occasionally stopping to turn and get breath, and send a 
shout of laughter after his baffled pursuers. 

That same night, at the usual hour, the gang met at their 
rendezvous, the deserted inn, beside the old road through the 
forest. They were in the midst of their orgies around the 
supper table, when the well-known ringing step of the leader 
sounded under the back windows without, the door was burst 
open, and the captain, hatless, coatless, with his dark elf locks 
flying, and every sign of haste and disorder, rushed into the 
room. 

He was met by a general rising and outcry : “ Hi ! hillo ! 

what’s up? ” exclaimed every man, starting to his feet and 
laying hands upon secret arms, prepared for instant resist- 
tance. 

For a moment Black Donald stood with his leonine head 
turned and looking back over his stalwart shoulders, as if in 
expectation of pursuit, and then, with a loud laugh, turned to 
his men, exclaiming : 

“ Ho ! you thought me followed ! So I have been ; but 
not as close as hound to heel ! ” 

“ In fact, captain, you look as if you’d but escaped with 
your skin this time ! ” said Hal. 

“ Faith ! the captain looks well peeled ! ” said Stephen. 

“ Worse than that, boys ! worse than that ! Your chief has 
not only lost his pack, his hat and his coat, but — his heart ! 
Not only are the outworks battered, but the citadel itself is 
taken ! Not only has he been captured, but captivated ! And 
all by a little minx of a girl ! Boys, your chief is in love ! ” 
exclaimed Black Donald, throwing himself into his seat at the 
head of the table, and quaffing off a large draught of ale. 

“ Hip ! hip ! hurraw ! three times three for the captain’s 
love ! ” cried Hal, rising to propose the toast, which was 
honored with enthusiasm. 

“ Now tell us all about it, captain. Who is she? Where 
did you see her ? Is she fair or dark ; tall or short ; thin or 
plump ; what’s her name, and is she kind ? ” asked Hal. 


I5« 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ First, guess where I have been to-day ? n 

“ You and your demon only know ! ” 

“ I guess they also know at Hurricane Hall, for it is there I 
have been ! ” 

“ Well, then, why didn’t you go to perdition at once? " 
exclaimed Hal, in a consternation that was reflected in every 
countenance present. 

“ Why, because when I go there I intend to take you all 
with me and remain ! ” answered Black Donald. 

“ Tell us about the visit to Hurricane Hall,” said Hal. 

Whereupon Black Donald commenced, and concealing only 
the motive of his visit, gave his comrades a very graphic, spicy 
and highly colored narrative of his adventure at Hurricane 
Hall, and particularly of his “ passages at arms ” with the 
little witch, Capitola, whom he described as : 

“ Such a girl ! slender, petite, lithe, with bright, black 
ringlets dancing around a little face full of fun, frolic, mischief 
and spirit, and bright eyes quick and vivacious as those of a 
monkey, darting hither and thither from object to object.” 

“ The captain is in love sure enough,” said Steve. 

“ Bravo ! here’s success to the captain’s love ! — she’s a 
brick ! ” shouted the men. 

“ Oh, she is ! ” assented their chief, with enthusiasm. 

“ Long life to her ! three times three for the pretty witch of 
Hurricane Hall ! ” roared the men, rising to their feet and 
waving their full mugs high in the air, before pledging the 
toast. 

“ That is all very well, boys ; but I want more substantial 
compliments than words — boys, I must have that girl ! ” 

“ Who doubts it, captain ? Of course you will take her at 
once if you want her,” said Hal, confidently. 

“ But, I must have help in taking her.” 

“ Captain, I volunteer for one ! ” exclaimed Hal. 

" And I, for another,” added Stephen. 

“ And you, Dick ? ” inquired the leader, turning toward the 
sullen man, whose greater atrocity had gained for him the 
name of Demon Dick. 

“ What is the use of volunteering when the captain has 
only to command,” said this individual, sulkily. 

“ Ay ! when the enterprise is simply the robbing of a mail 
coach, in which you all have equal interest, then, indeed, your 
captain has only to command, and you to obey ; but this is a 


THE SMUGGLER AND CAPITOLA. 159 

more delicate matter of entering a lady’s chamber and 
carrying her off for the captain’s arms, and so should only be 
entrusted to those whose feelings of devotfon to the captain’s 
person prompt them to volunteer for the service,” said 
Black Donald. 

“ How elegantly our captain speaks ! He ought to be a 
lawyer,” said Steve. 

“ The captain knows I’m with him for everything,” said 
Dick, sulkily. 

“ Very well, then, for a personal service like this, a delicate 
service requiring devotion, I should scorn to give commands ! 
I thank you for your offered assistance, my friends, and shall 
count on you three Hal, Stephen and Richard for the enter- 
prise ! ” said the captain. 

“ Ay, ay, ay ! ” said the three men, in a breath. 

“ For the time and place and manner of the seizure of the 
girl, we must reflect. Let us see ! There is to be a fair in 
the village next week, during the session of the court. Old 
Hurricane will be at court as usual. And for one day, at 
least, his servants will have a holiday to go to the fair. They 
will not get home until the next morning. The house will be 
ill-guarded. We must find out the particular day and night 
when this shall be so. Then you three shall watch your 
opportunity, enter the house by stealth, conceal yourselves 
in the chamber of the girl, and at midnight when all is quiet, 
gag her and bring her away.” 

“ Excellent ! ” said Hal. 

“ And mind, no liberty, except the simple act of carrying 
her off, is to be taken with your captain’s prize ! ” said the 
leader, with a threatening glare of his lion-like eye. 

“ Oh, no, no, not for the world ! She shall be as sacred 
from insult as though she were an angel and we saints ! ” said 
Hal, both the others assenting. 

“ And now, not a word more. We will arrange the further 
details of this business hereafter,” said the captain, as a 
peculiar signal was given at the door. 

Waving his hand for the men to keep their places, Black 
Donald went out and opened the back passage door, admitting 
Colonel Le Noir. 

“ Well ! ” said the latter anxiously. 

“ Well, sir, I have contrived to see her ; come into the 
front room and I will tell you all about it 1 ” said the outlaw. 


i6o 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


leading the way into the old parlor that had been the scene ot 
so many of their conspiracies. 

“ Does Capitola Le Noir still live? ” hoarsely demanded the 
colonel, as the two conspirators reached the parlor. 

“ Still live? Yes; ’twas but yesterday we agreed upon her 
death 1 Give a man time ! Sit down, colonel ! Take this 
seat. We will talk the matter over again.” 

With something very like a sigh of relief, Colonel Le Noir 
threw himself into the offered chair. 

Black Donald drew another chair up and sat down beside 
his patron. 

“ Well, colonel, I have contrived to see the girl as I told 
you,” he began. 

“ But you have not done the deed ! When will it be done ? ” 

“ Colonel, my patron, be patient ! Within twelve days I 
shall claim the last instalment of the ten thousand dollars 
agreed upon between us for this job ! ” 

“ But why so long, since it is to be done, why not have it 
over at once? ” said Colonel Le Noir, starting up and pacing 
the floor impatiently. 

“ Patience, my colonel ! The cat may play with the mouse 
most delightfully before devouring it ! ” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“ My colonel, I have seen the girl, under circumstances that 
has fired my heart with an uncontrollable desire for her ” 

“ Ha, ha ha ! ” scornfully laughed the colonel. “ Black 
Donald, the mail robber, burglar, outlaw, the subject of the 
grand passion ! ” 

“ Why not, my colonel ? Listen, you shall hear ! And 
then you shall judge whether or not you yourself might not 
have been fired by the fascinations of such a witch ! ” said the 
outlaw, who straightway commenced and gave his patron the 
same account of his visit to Hurricane Hall that he had already 
related to his comrades. 

The colonel heard the story with many a “ pish,” “ tush ” 
and “ pshaw,” and when the man had concluded the tale he 
exclaimed : 

“ Is that all? Then we may continue our negotiations, I 
care not ! Carry her off ! marry her ! do as you please with 
her ! only at the end of all — kill her ! ” hoarsely whispered 
Le Noir. 

“ That is just what I intend, colonel ! M 


THE BOY’S LOVE. 


161 


4< That will do if the event be certain : but it must be 
certain ! I cannot breathe freely while my brother’s heiress 
lives,” whispered Le Noir. 

“ Well, colonel, be content ; here is my hand upon it ! In 
six days Capitola will be in my power ! In twelve days yon 
shall be out of hers 1 ” 

“ It is a bargain,” said each of the conspirators, in a 
breath, as they shook hands and parted — Le Noir to his home 
and Black Donald to join his comrades’ revelry. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE BOY’S LOVE 

Endearing ! endearing ! 

Why so endearing 

Are those soft shining eyes, 

Through their silk fringe peering ? 

They love thee ! they love thee ! 

Deeply, sincerely ; 

And more than aught else on earth 
Thou lovest them dearly 1 

— Motherwell. 

While these dark conspiracies were hatching elsewhere, 
all was comfort, peace and love in the doctor’s quiet dwelling. 

Under Marah Rocke’s administration the business of the 
household went on with the regularity of clockwork. Every 
one felt the advantage of this improved condition. 

The doctor often declared that for his part he could not for 
the life of him think how they had ever been able to get along 
without Mrs. Rocke and Traverse. 

Clara affirmed that however the past might have been, the 
mother and son were a present and future necessity to the 
doctor’s comfort and happiness. 

The little woman herself gained rapidly both health and 
spirits and good looks. Under favorable circumstances, Marah 
Rocke, even at thirty-six, would have been esteemed a first- 
rate beauty ; and even now she was pretty, graceful and at- 
tractive to a degree that she herself was far from suspecting. 

Traverse advanced rapidly in his studies, to the ardent 
pursuit of which he was urged by every generous motive that 
could fire a human bosom — affection for his mother, whose con- 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


162 

dition he was anxious to elevate ; gratitude to his patron, whose 
great kindness he wished to justify, and admiration for Clara, 
whose esteem he was ambitious to secure. 

He attended his patron in all his professional visits ; for the 
doctor said that actual, experimental knowledge formed the 
most important part of a young medical student’s education. 

The mornings were usually passed in reading, in the library ; 
the middle of the day in attending the doctor on his pro- 
fessional visits, and the evenings were passed in the drawing- 
room with the doctor, Clara and Mrs. Rocke. And if the 
morning’s occupation was the most earnest and the day’s the 
most active, the evening’s relaxation with Clara and music and 
poetry was certainly the most delightful ! In the midst of all 
this peace and prosperity a malady was creeping upon the 
boy’s heart and brain that, in his simplicity and inexperience, 
he could neither understand nor conquer. 

Why was it that these evening fireside meetings with the 
doctor’s lovely daughter, once such unalloyed delight, were 
now only a keenly pleasing pain ? Why did his face burn and 
his heart beat and his voice falter when obliged to speak to 
her? Why could he no longer talk of her to his mother, or 
write of her to his friend, Herbert Greyson? Above all, why 
had his favorite day dream of having his dear friends, Herbert 
and Clara married together, grown so abhorrent as to sicken 
his very soul ? 

Traverse himself could not have answered these questions. 
In his ignorance of life he did not know that all his strong, 
ardent, earnest nature was tending toward the maiden by a 
power of attraction seated in the deepest principles of being 
and of destiny. 

Clara in her simplicity did not suspect the truth ; but tried 
in every innocent way to enliven the silent boy, and said that 
he worked too hard, and begged her father not to let him 
study too much. 

Whereupon the doctor would laugh and bid her not be un- 
easy about Traverse — that the boy was all right and would do 
. very well ! Evidently the doctor, with all his knowledge of 
human nature, did not perceive that his prot£g£ was in pro- 
cess of forming an unadvisable attachment to his daughter and 
heiress. 

Mrs. Rocke, with her woman’s tact and mother’s fore- 
thought, saw all ! She saw that in the honest heart of her poor 


THE BOY’S LOVE. 


163 

boy, unconsciously there was growing up a stroDg, ardent, 
earnest passion for the lovely girl with whom he was thrown in 
such close, intimate, daily association, and who was certainly 
not indifferent in her feelings toward him ; but whom he might 
never, never hope to possess. 

She saw this daily growing, and trembled for the peace of 
both. She wondered at the blindness of the doctor, who did 
not perceive what was so plain to her own vision. Daily she 
looked to see the eyes of the doctor open and some action 
taken upon the circumstances ; but they did not open to the 
evil ahead, for the girl and boy ! for morning after morning 
their hands would be together tying up the same vines, or 
clearing out the same flower bed ; day after day at the doctor’s 
orders Traverse attended Clara on her rides ; night after night 
their blushing faces would be bent over the same sketch book, 
chess board, or music sheet. 

“ Oh ! if the doctor cannot and will not see, what shall Ido? 
What ought I to do? ” said the conscientious little woman to 
herself, dreading above all things, and equally for her son and 
the doctor’s daughter, the evils of an unhappy attachment, 
which she, with her peculiar temperament and experiences, 
believed to be the worst of sorrows — a misfortune never to be 
conquered or outlived. 

“Yes! It is even better that we should leave the house 
than that Traverse should become hopelessly attached to 
Clara ; or, worse than all, that he should repay the doctor’s 
great bounty by winning the heart of his only daughter,” said 
Marah Rocke to herself ; and so “ screwing her courage to the 
sticking place,” she took an opportunity one morning early 
while Traverse and Clara were out riding, to go into the study 
to speak to the doctor. 

As usual, he looked up with a smile to welcome her as she 
entered ; but her downcast eyes and serious face made him 
uneasy, and he hastened to inquire if she was not well, or if 
anything had happened to make her anxious, and at the same 
time he placed a chair and made her sit in it. 

“ Yes, I am troubled, doctor, about a subject that I scarcely 
know how to break to you,” she said, in some considerable 
embarrassment. 

“ Mrs. Rocke, you know I am your friend, anxious to serve 
you ! Trust in me, and speak out ! ” 

“ Well, sir,” said Marah, beginning to roll up the corner of 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


164 

her apron, in her embarrassment, “ I should not presume to 
interfere, but you do not see ; gentlemen, perhaps, seldom do 
until it is too late.” She paused, and the good doctor turned 
his head about, listening first with one ear and then with the 
other, as if he thought by attentive hearing he might come to 
understand her incomprehensible words. 

“ Miss Clara has the misfortune to be without a mother, or 
an aunt, or any lady relative ” 

“ Oh, yes, I know it, my dear madam ; but then I am sure 
you conscientiously try to fill the place of a matronly friend 
and adviser to my daughter,” said the doctor, striving after 
light. 

“ Yes, sir, and it is in view of my duties in this relation that 
I say — I and Traverse ought to go away.” 

“ You and Traverse go away ! My good little woman, you 
ought to be more cautious how you shock a man at my time 
of life — fifty is a very apoplectic age to a full-blooded man, 
Mrs. Rocke ! But now that I have got over the shock, tell 
me why you fancy that you and Traverse ought to go away? ” 

“ Sir, my son is a well-meaning boy ” 

“ A high-spirited, noble-hearted lad ! ” put in the doctor. 
“ I have never seen a better ! ” 

“ But granting all that to be what I hope and believe it is — • 
true, still, Traverse Rocke is not a proper or desirable daily 
associate for Miss Day.” 

“ Why? ” curtly inquired the doctor. 

“ If Miss Clara’s mother were living, sir, she would prob- 
ably tell you that young ladies should never associate with any 
except their equals of the opposite sex,” said Marah Rocke. 

“ Clara’s dear mother, were she on earth, would understand 
and sympathize with me, and esteem your Traverse as I do, 
Mrs. Rocke,” said the doctor, with moist eyes and a tremu- 
lous voice. 

“ But oh, sir, exceeding kind as you are to Traverse, I dare 
not, in duty, look on and see things going the way in which 
they are, and not speak and ask your consent to withdraw 
Traverse ! ” 

“ My good little friend,” said the doctor, rising and looking 
kindly and benignantly upon Marah, “ My good little woman 
1 sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof ! * Suppose you 
and I trust a little in Divine Providence, and mind our own 
business ? ” 


THE BOY'S LOVE. 


165 

* But, sir, it seems to me a part of our business to watch 
over the young and inexperienced, that they fall into no 
snare.” 

“ And also to treat them with * a little wholesome neglect 9 
that our over-officiousness may plunge them into none ! ” 

“ I wish you would comprehend me, sir ! ” 

“I do, and applaud your motives; but give yourself no 
further trouble ! Leave the young people to their own honest 
hearts and to Providence. Clara, with all her softness, is a 
sensible girl, and as for Traverse, if he is one to break his 
heart from an unhappy attachment, I have been mistaken in 
the lad, that is all ! 99 said the doctor, heartily. 

Mrs. Rocke sighed, and, saying, “ I deemed it my duty to 
speak to you, sir, and having done so, I have no more to say,” 
fche slightly curtsied and withdrew. 

“ He does not see ! His great benevolence blinds him ! 
In his wish to serve us he exposes Traverse to the most dread- 
ful misfortune — the misfortune of becoming hopelessly at- 
tached to one far above him in station, whom he can never 
expect to possess ! ” said Marah Rocke to herself, as she re- 
tired from the room. 

“ I must speak to Traverse himself and warn him against 
this snare,” she said, as she afterward ruminated over the sub- 
ject. 

And accordingly that evening, when she had retired to her 
chamber and heard Traverse enter the little adjoining room 
where he slept, she called him in, and gave him a seat, saying 
that she must have some serious conversation with him. 

The boy looked uneasy, but took the offered chair and 
waited for his mother to speak. 

“Traverse,” she said, “a change has come over you re- 
cently that may escape all other eyes but those of your mother ; 
she, Traverse, cannot be blind to anything that seriously 
affects her boy’s happiness.” 

“ Mother, I scarcely know what you mean,” said the youth 
in embarrassment. 

“ Traverse, you are beginning to think too much of Miss 
Day.” 

“ Oh, mother 1 ” exclaimed the boy, while a violent blush 
overspread and empurpled his face ! Then in a little while and 
in faltering tones he inquired. “ Have I betrayed in any way, 
that I do?” 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


1 66 

“ To no one but to me, Traverse, to me whose anxiety for 
your happiness makes me watchful ; and now, dear boy, you 
must listen to me. I know it is very sweet to you, to sit in a 
dark corner and gaze on Clara, when no one, not even herself, 
witnesses your joy, and to lie awake and think and dream of 
her when no eye but that of God looks down upon your heart ; 
and to build castles in the air for her and for you ; all this I 
know is very sweet, but, Traverse, it is a sweet poison — fatal if 
indulged in — fatal to your peace and integrity.” 

“ Oh, my mother ! Oh, my mother ! What are you telling 
me ! ” exclaimed Traverse, bitterly. 

“ Unpalatable truths, dear boy, but necessary antidotes to 
that sweet poison of which you have already tasted too much.” 

“ What would you have me to do, my mother? ” 

“ Guard your acts and words, and even thoughts ; forbear 
to look at, or speak to, or think of Clara, except when it is 
unavoidable — or if you do, regard her as she is — one so far 
beyond your sphere as to be forever unattainable ! ” 

“ Oh, mother, I never once dreamed of such presumption as 
to think of — of ” — The youth paused and a deep blush again 
overspread his face. 

“ I know you have not indulged presumptuous thoughts as 
yet, my boy, and it is to warn you against them, while yet your 
heart is in some measure within your own keeping, that I speak 
to you. Indulge your imagination in no more sweet reveries 
about Miss Day, for the end thereof will be bitter humiliation 
and disappointment. Remember also that in so doing you 
would indulge a sort of treachery against your patron, who in 
his great faith in your integrity has received you in the bosom 
of his family and admitted you to an almost brotherly intimacy 
with his daughter. Honor his trust in you, and treat his daugh- 
ter with the distant respect due to a princess.” 

“ I will, mother ! It will be hard, but I will ! Oh, an hour 
ago I did not dream how miserable I should be now ! ” said 
Traverse, in a choking voice. 

“ Because I have pointed out to you the gulf toward which 
you were walking blindfolded ! ” 

“ I know it ! I know it now, mother,” said Traverse, as he 
arose and pressed his mother’s hand and hurried to his own 
room. 

The poor youth did his best to follow out the line of conduct 
prescribed for him by his mother. He devoted himself to his 


THE BOY'S LOVE. 


167 

studies and to the active service of his patron. He avoided 
Clara as much as possible, and when obliged to be in her com- 
pany, he treated her with the most respectful reserve. 

Clara saw and wondered at his change of manner, and be- 
gan to cast about in her own mind for the probable cause of 
his conduct. 

“ I am the young mistress of the house,” said Clara to her- 
self, “ and I know I owe to every inmate of it consideration 
and courtesy ; perhaps I may have been unconsciously lacking 
in these toward Traverse, whose situation would naturally ren- 
der him very sensitive to neglect. I must endeavor to con- 
vince him that none was intended.” And so resolving, Clara 
redoubled all her efforts to make Traverse, as well as others, 
happy and comfortable. 

But happiness and comfort seemed for the time to have de- 
parted from the youth. He saw her generous endeavors to 
cheer him, and while adoring her amiability, grew still more 
reserved. 

This pained the gentle girl, who, taking herself seriously to 
task, said : 

“ Oh, I must have deeply wounded his feelings in some un- 
conscious way ! And if so, how very cruel and thoughtless of 
me! How could I have done it? I cannot imagine! But I 
know I shall not allow him to continue unhappy if I can pre- 
vent it ! I will speak to him about it.” 

And then in the candor, innocence and humility of her soul, 
she followed him to the window where he stood in a moody 
silence, and said pleasantly : 

“ Traverse, we do not seem to be so good friends as for- 
merly. If I have done anything to offend you, I know that you 
will believe me when I say that it was quite unintentional on 
my part and that I am very sorry for it, and hope you will for- 
get it.” 

“ You — you — Miss Day ! You say anything to displease 
anybody ! Any one become displeased with you ! ” exclaimed 
the youth in a tremulous enthusiasm that shook his voice and 
suffused his cheeks. 

“Then if you are not displeased, Traverse, what is the mat- 
ter, and why do you call me Miss Day instead of Clara? ” 

“ Miss Day, because it is right that I should. You are a 
young lady — the only daughter and heiress of Doctor Day of 
Willow Heights, while I am ” 


1 63 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ His friend,” said Clara. 

“The son of his housekeeper,” said Traverse, walking away. 

Clara looked after him in dismay for a moment, and then 
sat down and bent thoughtfully over her needlework. 

From that day Traverse grew more deeply in love and more 
reserved than before. How could it be otherwise, domesticated 
as he was, with this lovely girl and becoming daily more sen- 
sible of her beauty, goodness and intelligence? Yet he strug- 
gled against his inevitable attachment as a great treachery, 
Meantime he made rapid progress in his medical studies. It 
was while affairs were in this state that one morning the doctor 
entered the study holding the morning paper in his hand. 
Seating himself in his leathern armchair at the table, he said : 

“ I see, my dear Traverse, that a full course of lectures is to 
be commenced at the medical college in Washington, and I 
think that you are sufficiently far advanced in your studies to 
attend them with great advantage — what say you? ” 

“ Oh, sir ! ” said Traverse, upon whom the proposition had 
burst quite unexpectedly, “ I should indeed be delighted to 
go if that were possible.” 

“ There is no * if ’ about it, my boy ; if you wish to go, you 
shall do so. I have made up my mind to give you a profes- 
sional education, and shall not stop half way.” 

“ Oh, sir, the obligation — the overwhelming obligation you 
lay upon me!" 

“ Nonsense, Traverse ! it is only a capital investment of 
funds ! If I were a usurer I could not put out money to a 
better advantage. You will repay me by-and-by with com- 
pound interest; so just consider all that I may be able to do 
for you as a loan to be repaid when you shall have achieved 
success.” 

“ I am afraid, sir, that that time will never ” 

“ No, you are not ! ” interrupted the doctor, “and so don’t 
>£t modesty run into hypocrisy. Now put up your books and 
go and tell your good little mother to get your clothes all 
rv ady for you to go to Washington, for you shall start by the 
n %t coach.” 

Much surprise was created in the little household by the 
n* vs that Traverse was going immediately to Washington to 
attend the medical lectures. There were but two days to pre- 
pare his wardrobe for the journey. Mrs. Rocke went cheer- 
fully to work ; Clara lent her willing and skilful aid, and at the 


CAPITOLA’S MOTHER. 169 

end of the second day his clothes, in perfect order, were all 
neatly packed in his trunk. 

And on the morning of the third day Traverse took leave of 
his mother and Clara, and for the first time left home to go 
into the great world. Doctor Day accompanied him in the old 
green gig as far as Staunton, where he took the stage. 

As soon as they had left the house Marah Rocke went away 
to her own room to drop a few natural tears over this first part- 
ing with her son. Very lonely and desolate the mother felt as 
she stood weeping by the window, and straining her eyes to 
catch a distant view of the old green gig that had already 
rolled out of sight. 

While she stood thus in her loneliness and desolation, the 
door silently opened, a footstep softly crossed the floor, a pair 
of arms was put around her neck, and Clara Day dropped her 
head upon the mother’s bosom and wept softly. 

Marah Rocke pressed that beautiful form to her breast, and 
felt with dismay that the doctor’s sweet daughter already re- 
turned her boy’s silent love ! 


CHAPTER XXIV. 
capitola’s mother. 

A woman like a dew-drop she was purer than the purest, 

And her noble heart the noblest, yes, and her sure faith the surest ; 
And her eyes were dark and humid like the depth in depth of 
lustre 

Hid i’ the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild grape’s 
cluster, 

Gushed in raven-tinted plenty down her cheeks’ rose-tinted mar- 
ble ; 

Then her voice’s music— call it the well’s bubbling, the bird’s war- 
ble. 

—Browning. 

“ Cap?” 

“ Sir ! ” 

“ What the blazes is the matter with you? ” 

“ What the blazes ! You better say what the dust and ashes ! 
I'm bored to death ! I’m blue as indigo ! There never was 
such a rum old place as this or such a rum old uncle as you ! ” 
“ Cap, how often have I told you to leave off this Bowery 
boy talk? Rum 1 pah ! ” said Old Hurricane. 

“ Well, it is mm, then ! Nothing ever happens here ! The 


170 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


silence deafens me ! the plenty takes away my appetite ! the 
safety makes me low ! ” 

“ Hum ! you are like the Bowery boys in times of peace, 
* spoiling for a fight.’ ” 

« Yes. I am ! just decomposing above ground for want of 
having my blood stirred, and I wish I was back in the Bowery ! 
Something was always happening there ! One day a fire, next 
day a fight, another day a fire and a fight together.” 

“ Umph ! and you to run with the engine ! ” 

“ Don’t talk about it, uncle ; it makes me homesick — every 
day something glorious to stir one’s blood ! Here nothing 
ever happens, hardly ! It has been three days since I caught 
Black Donald ; ten days since you blowed up the whole house- 
hold ! Oh ! I wish the bams would catch on fire ! I wish 
thieves would break in and steal. I wish Demon’s Run would 
rise to a flood and play the demon for once ! Ohyah ! — oo ! ” 
said Cap, opening her mouth with a yawn wide enough to 
threaten the dislocation of her jaws. 

“Capitola,” said the old man, very gravely, “ I am getting 
seriously uneasy about you. I know I am a rough old soldier, 
quite unfit to educate a young girl, and that Mrs. Condiment 
can’t manage you, and — I’ll consult Mr. Goodwin ! ” he con- 
cluded, getting up and putting on his hat, and walking out of 
the breakfast-room, where this conversation had taken place. 

Cap laughed to herself. “ I hope it is not a sin. I know 
I should die of the blues if I couldn’t give vent to my feelings 
and — tease uncle ! ” 

Capitola had scarcely exaggerated her condition. The 
monotony of her life affected her spirits ; the very absence of 
the necessity of thinking and caring for herself left a dull void 
in her heart and brain, and as the winter waned the annual 
spring fever of lassitude and dejection to which mercurial 
organizations like her own are subject, tended to increase the 
malady that Mrs. Condiment termed “ a lowness of spirits.” 

At his wits’ end, from the combined feelings of his responsi- 
bility and his helplessness in his ward’s case, Old Hurricane 
went and laid the matter before the Rev. Mr. Goodwin. 

Having reached the minister’s house and found him alone 
and disengaged in his library, Old Hurricane first bound him 
over to strict secrecy and then “ made a clean breast of it ; ” 
told him where Capitola had been brought up and under 
what circumstances he had found her. 


CAPITOLA’S MOTHER. 


171 


The honest country clergyman was shocked beyond all* im- 
mediate power of recovering himself — so shocked, in fact, 
that Old Hurricane, fearing he had gone too far, hastened to 
say : 

“ But mind, on my truth as a man, my honor as a soldier, 
and my faith as a Christian, I declare that that wild, reckless, 
desolate child has passed unscathed through the terrible ordeal 
of destitution, poverty and exposure. She has, sir ! She is as 
innocent as the most daintily sheltered young heiress in the 
country ! She is, sir ! And I’d cut off the tongue and ears 
of any man that said otherwise.” 

“ I do not say otherwise, my friend ; but I say that she has 
suffered a frightful series of perils.” 

“ She has come out of them safe, sir ! I know it by a 
thousand signs ; what I fear for her is the future. I can’t 
manage her. She won’t obey me, except when she likes. 
She has never been taught obedience nor been accustomed to 
subordination, and I don’t understand either. She rides and 
walks out alone in spite of all I can do or say. If she were a 
boy I’d thrash her; but what can I do with a girl? ” said Old 
Hurricane, in despair. 

“ Lock her up in her chamber until she is brought to 
reason,” suggested the minister. 

“ Demmy, she’d jump out of the window and break her 
neck ! or hang herself with her garters ! or starve herself to 
death ! You don’t know what an untamable thing she is. 
Some birds, if caged, beat themselves to death against the 
bars of their prison. She is just such a wild bird as that.” 

“ Humph ! it is a difficult case to manage ; but you should 
not shrink from responsibility ; you should be firm with her.” 

“That’s just what I can’t be with the witch, confound her ! 
she is such a wag, such a drole, such a mimic ; disobeys me 
in such a mocking, cajoling, affectionate way. I could not 
give her pain if her soul depended on it ! ” 

“ Then you should talk to her ; try moral suasion.” 

“ Yes ; if I could only get her to be serious long enough to 
listen to me ! But you see Cap isn’t sentimental, and if I try 
to be she laughs in my face.” 

“ But, then, is she so insensible to all the benefits you 
have conferred upon her? Will not gratitude influence 
her? ” 

“ Yes ; so far as repaying me with a genuine affection, fer- 


172 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


vent caresses and careful attention to my little comforts can 
go ; but Cap evidently thinks that the restriction of her lib- 
erty is too heavy a price to pay for protection and support. 
The little rogue ! Think of her actually threatening, in her 
good-humored way, to cite me before the nearest justice to 
show cause why I detained her in my house ! ” 

“ Well, you could easily do that, I suppose, and she could 
no longer oppose your authority.” 

“ No; that is just what I couldn’t do; I couldn’t show any 
legal rights to detain Capitola.” 

“ Humph ! That complicates the case very much ! ” 

“ Yes ; and much more than you think ; for I wish to keep 
Capitola until she is of legal age. I do not wish that she 
should fall into the hands of her perfidious guardian until 1 
shall be able to bring legal proof of his perfidy.” 

“ Then it appears that this girl has received foul play from 
her friends? ” 

“ Foul play ! I should think so ! Gabriel Le Noir has 
very nearly put his neck into a halter.” 

“ Gabriel Le Noir ! Colonel Le Noir, our neighbor ! ” 
exclaimed the minister. 

“ Exactly so. Parson, you have given me your word as a 
Christian minister to be silent forever concerning this inter- 
view, or until I give you leave to speak of it.” 

“ Yes, major, and I repeat my promise ; but, indeed, sir, 
you astound me!” 

“ Listen, and let astonishment rise to consternation. I will 
tell you who Capitola is. You, sir, have been in this neigh- 
borhood only ten years, and, consequently, you know Gabriel 
Le Noir only as the proprietor of Hidden House, a widower 
with a grown son ” 

“ And as a gentleman of irreproachable reputation, in 
good standing both in the church and in the county.” 

“ Ex-actly ! A man that pays his pew rent, gives good 
dinners and takes off his hat to women and clergymen ! Well, 
sir, this gentleman of irreproachable manners and morals — 
this citizen of consideration in the community — this member 
in good standing with the church — has qualified himself for 
twenty years’ residence in the penitentiary, even if not for the 
exaltation of a hangman’s halter ! ” 

“ Sir, I am inexpressibly shocked to hear you say so, and I 
must still believe that there is some great mistake.” 


CAPITOLA’S MOTHER. 


173 

u Wait until I tell you! I, Ira Warfield, have known 
Gabriel Le Noir as a villain for the last eighteen years. I tell 
you so without scruple, and hold myself ready to maintain my 
words in field or forum, by sword or law ! Well, having known 
him so long for such a knave, I was in no manner surprised to 
discover some six months ago that he was also a criminal, and 
only needed exposure to become a felon ! ” 

“ Sir, sir ! this is strong language ! ” 

“I am willing to back it with ‘life, liberty and sacred 
honor/ as the Declaration of Independence has it. Listen : 
Some sixteen years ago, before you came to take this pastoral 
charge, the Hidden House was occupied by old Victor Le 
Noir, the father of Eugene, the heir, and of Gabriel, the pres- 
ent usurper. The old man died, leaving a will to this effect — 
the landed estate, including the coal and iron mines, the 
Hidden House and all the negroes, stock, furniture and other 
personal property upon the premises to his eldest son Eugene, 
with the proviso that if Eugene should die without issue, the 
landed estate, houses, negroes, etc., should descend to his 
younger brother Gabriel. To Gabriel he left his bank stock 
and blessing.” 

“ An equitable will,” observed the minister. 

“ Yes ; but hear ! At the time of his father’s death Eugene 
was traveling in Europe. On receiving the news he imme- 
diately returned home, bringing with him a lovely young 
creature, a mere child, that he presented to his astounded 
neighbors as Madame Eugene Le Noirl I declare to you 
there was one simultaneous outcry of shame, that he should 
ftave trapped into matrimony a creature so infantile, for she 
was scarcely fourteen years of age ! ” 

“It was indeed highly improper,” said the minister. 

“ So thought all the neighborhood ; but when they found 
out how it happened, disapproval was changed to commenda- 
tion. She was the daughter of a French patriot. Her father 
and mother had both perished on the scaffold in the sacred 
cause of liberty; she was thrown helpless, friendless and 
penniless upon the cold charity of the world ; Providence cast 
her in the way of our sensitive and enthusiastic young traveler ; 
he pitied her ; he loved her, and was casting about in his own 
mind how he could help without compromising her, when the 
news of his father’s illness summoned him home. Then, see- 
ing no better way of protecting her, after a little hesitation 


i ; 4 THE HIDDEN HAND. 

upon account of her tender age, he married her and brought 
with him.” 

“ Good deeds, we know, must be rewarded in heaven, since 
on earth they are so often punished.” 

“ He did not long enjoy his bride. She was just the most 
beautiful creature that ever was seen — with a promise of still 
more glorious beauty in riper years. I have seen handsome 
women and pretty women — but Madame Eugene Le Noir was 
the only perfectly beautiful woman I ever saw in my long life ! 
My own aged eyes seemed ‘ enriched ’ only to look at her 1 
She adored Eugene, too ; any one could see that. At first 
she spoke English in * broken music,’ but soon her accent be- 
came as perfect as if she had been native born. How could 
it have been otherwise, when her teacher and inspirerwas love? 
She won all hearts with her loveliness ! Humph ! hear me, 
an old fool — worse — an Old Hurricane — betrayed into dis- 
courses of love and beauty merely by the remembrance of 
Madame Eugene Le Noir ! Ah, bright, exotic flower ! she did 
not bloom long. The bride had scarcely settled down into 
the wife when one night Eugene Le Noir did not come home 
as usual. The next day his dead body, with a bullet in his 
brain, was found in the woods around the Hidden House. 
The murderer was never discovered. Gabriel Le Noir came 
in haste from the military post where he had been stationed. 
Madame Eugene was never seen abroad after the death of her 
husband. It was reported that she had lost her reason, a 
consequence that surprised no one. Eugene having died 
without issue, and his young widow being mad, Gabriel, by the 
terms of his father’s will, stepped at once into the full posses- 
sion ot the whole property. 

“ Something of all this I have heard before,” said the minister. 

“ Very likely, for these facts and falsehoods were the com- 
mon property of the neighborhood. But what you have not 
heard before, and what is not known to any now living, ex- 
cept the criminals, the victims and myself, is that, three 
months after the death of her husband, Madame Eugene Le 
Noir gave birth to twins — one living, one dead. The dead 
child was privately buried ; the living one, together with the 
nurse that was the sole witness of the birth, was abducted.” 

“ Great heavens 1 can this be true ? ” exclaimed the min- 
ister, shocked beyond all power of self-control. 

“ True as gospel ! I have proof enough to carry conviction 


CAPITOLA’S MOTHER. 


I 75 

to any honest breast — to satisfy any caviller — except a court 
of justice. You shall hear. You remember the dying woman 
whom you dragged me out in the snowstorm to see — blame 
you 1 ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ She was the abducted nurse, escaped and returned. It 
was to make a deposition to the facts I am about to relate 
that she sent you to fetch me,” said Old Hurricane ; and 
with that he commenced and related the whole dark history 
of crime comprised in the nurse’s dying deposition. They 
examined the instrument together, and Old Hurricane again 
related, in brief, the incidents of his hurried journey to New 
York ; his meeting and identifying Capitola and bringing her 
home in safety to his house. 

“ And thus,” said the old man, “ you perceive that this 
child whose birth was feloniously concealed, and who was 
cast away to perish among the wretched beggars, thieves and 
street- walkers of New York, is really the only living child of 
the late Eugene Le Noir, and the sole inheritrix of the Hidden 
House, with its vast acres of fields, forests, iron and coal mines, 
water power, steam mills, furnaces and foundries — wealth that 
I would not undertake to estimate within a million of dollars 
— all of which is now held and enjoyed by that usurping villain, 
Gabriel Le Noir ! ” 

“ But,” said the minister, gravely, “ you have, of course, 
commenced proceedings on the part of your prot6g£.” 

“ Listen ; I will tell you what I have done. When I first 
brought Cap home I was moved not only by the desire of 
wreaking vengeance upon a most atrocious miscreant who had 
done me an irreparable injury, but also by sympathy for the 
little witch who had won my heart at first sight. Therefore, 
you may judge I lost no time in preparing to strike a double 
blow which should ruin my own mortal enemy and reinstate 
my favorite in her rights. With this view, immediately on my 
return home, I sent for Breefe, my confidential attorney, and 
laid the whole matter before him.” 

“ And he ” 

“ To my dismay he told me that, though the case was clear 
enough, it was not sufficiently strong, in a legal point of view, 
to justify us in bringing suit ; for that the dying deposition of 
the mulatto nurse could not be received as evidence in our 
county courts.” 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


176 

“ You knew that before, sir, I presume.” 

“ Of course I did ; but I thought it was a lawyer’s business 
to get over such difficulties ; and I assure you, parson, that I. 
flew into a passion and cursed court and county law and 
lawyers to my heart’s content. I would have quarreled with 
old Breefe then and there, only Breefe won’t get excited. He 
very coolly advised me to keep the matter close and my eyes 
open, and gather all the corroborative testimony I could find, 
and that, in the meantime, he would reflect upon the best 
manner of proceeding.” 

“ I think, Major Warfield, that his counsel was wise and 
disinterested. But tell me, sir, of the girl’s mother. Is it not 
astonishing — in fact, is it not perfectly incomprehensible — that 
so lovely a woman as you have represented her to be should 
have consented to the concealment, if not to the destruction, 
of her own legitimate offspring?” 

“ Sir, to me it is not incomprehensible at all. She was at 
once an orphan and a widow ; a stranger in a strange land ; a 
poor, desolate, broken-hearted child, in the power of the cun- 
ningest and most unscrupulous villain that the Lord ever 
suffered to live ! I wonder at nothing that he might have 
deceived or frightened her into doing.” 

“ Heaven forgive us ! Have I known that man for ten 
years to hear this account of him at last? But tell me, sir, 
have you really any true idea of what has been the fate of the 
poor young widow? ” 

“ No ; not the slightest. Immediately after his brother’s 
funeral, Gabriel Le Noir gave out that Madame Eugene had 
lost her reason through excessive grief, soon after which he 
took her with him to the North, and, upon his return alone, 
reported that he had left her in a celebrated lunatic asylum. 
The story was probable enough, and received universal 
belief. Only now I do not credit it, and do not know 
whether the widow be living or dead ; or, if living, whether 
she be mad or sane ; if dead, whether she came to her end by 
fair means or foul ! ” 

“ Merciful heaven, sir ! you do not mean to say ” 

“ Yes ; I do mean to say ; and if you w r ould like to know 
what is on my private mind I’ll tell you. I believe that 
Madame Eugene Le Noir has been treacherously made away 
with by the same infernal demon at w r hose instigation her 
husband was murdered and her child stolen.” 


CAPITOLA’S MOTHER. 


1 77 


The minister seemed crushed beneath the overwhelming 
weight of this communication; he passed his hand over his 
brow and thence down his face and sighed deeply. For a few 
moments he seemed unable to reply, and when he spoke it was 
only to say : 

“ In this matter, Major Warfield, I can offer you no counsel 
better than that of your confidential attorney — follow the light 
that you have until it lead you to the full elucidation of this 
affair ; and may heaven grant that you may find Colonel Le 
Noir less guilty than you apprehend.” 

“ Parson, humbug ! When charity drivels it ought to be 
turned off by justice ! I will follow the little light I have. I 
suspect, from the description, that the wretch whoatLe Noir’s 
instance carried off the nurse and child was no other than the 
notorious Black Donald. I have offered an additional thousand 
dollars for his apprehension, and if he is taken he will be con- 
demned to death, make a last dying speech and confession 
and give up his accomplices, the accomplished Colonel Le Noir 
among the rest ! ” 

“ If the latter really was an accomplice, there could be no 
better way of discovering the fact than to bring this Black 
Donald to justice ; but I greatly fear that there is little hope 
of that,” said the minister. 

“ Aye, but there is ! Listen ! The long impunity enjoyed 
by this desperado has made him daring to fatuity. Why, 1 
was within a hair’s breadth of capturing him myself a few days 
ago.” 

“ Ha ! is it possible? ” asked the minister, with a look of 
surprise and interest. 

“ Aye, was I ; and you shall hear all about it,” said Old 
Hurricane. And upon that he commenced and told the 
minister the adventure of Capitola with Black Donald at 
Hurricane Hall. 

The minister was amazed, yet could not forbear to say : 

“ It seems to me, however, that it was Capitola who was in 
a hair’s breadth of capturing this notorious desperado.” 

“ Pooh ! she clung to him like the reckless lunatic that she 
is ; but Lord, he would have carried her off on his back if it 
had not been for me.” 

The minister smiled a little to himself and then said : 

“ This prot£g6 of yours is a very remarkable girl, as in- 
teresting to me in her character as she is in her history ; her 

12 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


178 

re ry spirit, courage and insubordination make her singularly 
hard to manage and apt to go astray. With your permission I 
will make her acquaintance, with the view of seeing what good 
I can do her." 

“ Pray do so, for then you will be better able to counsel me 
how to manage the capricious little witch who, if I attempt to 
check her in her wild and dangerous freedom of action, tells 
me plainly that liberty is too precious a thing to be exchanged 
for food and clothing, and that, rather than live in bondage, 
she will throw herself upon the protection of the court. If she 
does that the game is up. Le Noir, against whom we can as 
yet prove nothing, would claim her as his niece and ward, and 
get her into his power for the purpose of making way with her, 
as he did with her father and mother." 

“ Oh, for heaven’s sake, sir ! no more of that until we have 
further evidence," said the minister, uneasily, adding, “ I will 
see your very interesting prot£g£ to-morrow." 

“ Do, do ! to-morrow, to-day, this hour, any time ! " said 
Major Warfield, as he cordially took leave of the pastor. 


CHAPTER XXV. 
cap’s tricks and perils. 

I’ll be merry and free, 

I’ll be sad for naebody ; 

Naebody cares for me, 

I care for naebody. 

— Burns. 

The next day, according to agreement, the pastor came 
and dined at Hurricane Hall. During the dinner he had 
ample opportunity of observing Capitola. 

In the afternoon Major Warfield took an occasion of leaving 
him alone with the contumacious young object of his visit. 

Cap, with her quick perceptions, instantly discovered the 
drift and purpose of this action, which immediately provoked 
all the mischievous propensities of her elfish spirit. 

Uncle means that I shall be lectured by the good parson. 
If he preaches to me, won’t I humor him Ho the top of his 
bent?’ — that’s all," was her secret resolution, as she sat 
demurely, with pursed-up lips, bending over her needle-work. 


CAP’S TRICKS AND PERILS. 


179 


The honest and well-meaning old country clergyman hitched 
his chair a little nearer to the perverse young rebel, and 
gingerly — for he was half afraid of his questionable subject — 
entered into conversation with her. 

To his surprise and pleasure, Capitola replied with the 
decorum of a young nun. 

Encouraged by her manner, the good minister went on to 
say how much interested he felt in her welfare ; how deeply 
he compassionated her lot in never having possessed the 
advantage of a mother’s teaching ; how anxious he was by his 
counsels to make up to her as much as possible such a 
deficiency. 

Here Capitola put up both her hands and dropped her face 
upon them. 

Still farther encouraged by this exhibition of feeling, Mr. 
Goodwin went on. He told her that it behooved her, who 
was a motherless girl, to be even more circumpsect than others, 
lest, through very ignorance, she might err ; and in particular 
he warned her against riding or walking out alone, or indulging 
In any freedom of manners that might draw upon her the 
animadversions of their very strict community. 

“Oh, sir, I know I have been very indiscreet, and I am very 
miserable,” said Capitola, in a heart-broken voice. 

“ My dear child, your errors have hitherto been those of 
ignorance only, and I am very much pleased to find how much 
your good uncle has been mistaken, and how ready you are to 
do strictly right when the way is pointed out,” said the minister, 
pleased to his honest heart’s core that he had made this deep 
impression. 

A heavy sigh burst from the bosom of Capitola. 

“What is the matter, my dear child ? ” he said, kindly. 

“ Oh, sir, if I had only known you before ! ” exclaimed 
Capitola, bitterly. 

“Why, my dear? I can do just as much good now.” 

« Oh, no, sir ; it is too late ; it is too late ! ” 

“ It is never to late to do well.” 

« Oh, yes, sir ; it is for me ! Oh, how I wish I had had 
your good counsel before ; it would have saved me from so 
much trouble.” 

« My dear child, you make me seriously uneasy ; do explain 
yourself,” said the old pastor, drawing his chair closer to hers 
and trying to get a look at the distressed little face that was 


i8o 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


bowed down upon her hands and veiled with her hair ; “ da 
tell me, my dear, what is the matter.” 

“ Oh, sir, I am afraid to tell you ; you’d hate and despise 
me • you’d never speak to me again,” said Capitola, keeping 
her face concealed. 

“ My dear child,” said the minister, very gravely and sorrow- 
fully, whatever your offense has been, and you make me fear 
that it has been a very serious one, I invite you to confide it 
to me, and, having done so, I promise, however I may mourn 
the sin, not to ‘hate,’ or ‘despise,’ or forsake the sinner. 
Come, confide in me.” 

“ Oh, sir, I daren’t ! indeed I daren’t ! ” moaned Capitola. 

“ My poor girl ! ” said the minister, “ if I am to do you any 
good it is absolutely necessary that you make me your con- 
fidant.” 

“ Oh, sir, I have been a very wicked girl ; I daren’t tell you 
how wicked I have been ! ” 

“ Does your good uncle know or suspect this wrongdoing of 
yours?” 

“ Uncle ! Oh, no, sir ! He’d turn me out of doors ! He’d 
kill me ! Indeed he would, sir ! Please don’t tell him ! ” 

“ You forget, my child, that I do not yet know the nature of 
your offense,” said the minister, in a state of painful anxiety. 

“ But I am going to inform you, sir ; and oh ! I hope you 
will take pity on me and tell me what to do ; for though I 
dread to speak, I can’t keep it on my conscience any longer, 
it is such a heavy weight on my breast ! ” 

“ Sin always is, my poor girl,” said the pastor, with a deep 
moan. 

“ But, sir, you know I had no mother, as you said yourself.” 

“ I know it, my poor girl, and am ready to make every 
allowance,” said the old pastor, with a deep sigh, not knowing 
what next to expect. 

“ And — and — I hope you will forgive me, sir ; but — but he 
was so handsome I couldn’t help liking him ! ” 

“ Miss Black ! ” cried the horrified pastor. 

“There ! I knew you’d just go and bite my head off the 
very first thing ! Oh, dear, what shall I do? ” sobbed Capitola. 

The good pastor, who had started to his feet, remained gaz- 
ing upon her in a panic of consternation, murmuring to him- 
self : 

“ Good angel 1 I am fated to hear more great sins than if I 


CAP’S TRICKS AND PERILS. i8t 

were a prison chaplain ! ” Then, going up to the sobbing de- 
linquent he said : 

“ Unhappy girl ! who is this person of whom you speak? ” 

“ H — h — h — him that I met when I went walking in the 
woods,” sobbed Capitola. 

“ Heaven of heavens ! this is worse than my very worst fears ! 
Wretched girl ! Tell me instantly the name of this base de- 
ceiver 1 ” 

“He — he — he’s no base deceiver; he — he — he’s very ami- 
able and good-looking; and — and — and that’s why I liked 
him so much ; it was all my fault, not his, poor, dear fellow ! ” 

“ His name? ” sternly demanded the pastor. 

“Alf — Alf — Alfred,” wept Capitola. 

“Alfred whom?” 

“ Alfred Blen — Blen — Blenheim ! ” 

“ Miserable girl ! how often have you met this miscreant in 
Ae forest? ” 

“ I — don’t — know ! ” sobbed Capitola. 

“Where is the wretch to be found now?” 

“ Oh, please don’t hurt him, sir ! Please don’t ! He — he 
— he’s hid in the closet in my room.” 

A groan that seemed to have rent his heart in twain burst 
from the bosom of the minister, as he repeated in deepest 
horror : 

“In your room! (Well, I must prevent murder being 
done !) Did you not know, you poor child, the danger you 
ran by giving this young man private interviews ; and, above 
all, admitting him to your apartment? Wretched girl ! bet- 
ter you’d never been born than ever so to have received a 
3 nan ! ” 

“ Man ! man ! man ! — I’d like to know what you mean by 
that, Mr. Goodwin ! ” exclaimed Capitola, lifting her eyes 
flashing through their tears. 

“ I mean the man with whom you have given these private 
interviews.”' 

“ I ! — I give private interviews to a man ! Take care what 
you say, Mr. Goodwin ; I won’t be insulted ; no, not even by 
you ! ” 

“Then, if you are not talking of a man, who or what in the 
world are you talking about? ” exclaimed the amazed minister. 

“ Why, Alfred, the Blenheim poodle that strayed away from 
some of the neighbors’ houses, and that I found in the woods 


182 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


and brought home and hid in my closet, for fear he would be 
inquired after, or uncle would find it out and make me give 
him up. I knew it was wrong, but then he was so pretty- ” 

Before Capitola had finished her speech Mr. Goodwin had 
seized his hat and rushed out of the house in indignation, 
nearly overturning Old Hurricane, whom he met on the lawn, 
and to whom he said : 

“ Thrash that girl as if she were a bay boy, for she richly 
deserves it ! ” 

“ There ! what did I say? Now you see what a time I have 
with her; she makes me sweat, I can tell you,” said Old 
Hurricane, in triumph. 

“ Oh ! oh ! oh ! ” groaned the sorely-tried minister. 

“ What’s it now? ” inquired Old Hurricane. 

The pastor took the major’s arm and, while they walked up 
and down before the house, told how he had been “sold ” by 
Capitola, ending by saying : 

“ You will have to take her firmly in hand.” 

“ I’ll do it,” said Old Hurricane. “ I’ll do it.” 

The pastor then called for his horse and, resisting all his 
host’s entreaties to stay to tea, took his departure. 

Major Warfield reentered the house, resolving to say nothing 
to Capitola for the present, but to seize the very first opportu- 
nity of punishing her for her flippancy. 

The village fair had commenced on Monday. It had been 
arranged that all Major Warfield’s family should go, though 
not all upon the same day. It was proposed that on Thursday, 
when the festival should be at its height, Major Warfield, Cap- 
itola and the house servants should go. And on Saturday Mrs. 
Condiment, Mr. Ezy and the farm servants should have a holi- 
day for the same purpose. 

Therefore, upon Thursday morning all the household be- 
stirred themselves at an unusually early hour, and appeared 
before breakfast in their best Sunday’s suit. 

Capitola came down to breakfast in a rich blue silk carriage 
dress, looking so fresh, blooming and joyous that it went to the 
old man’s heart to disappoint her ; yet Old Hurricane resolved, 
as the pastor had told him, to “ be firm,” and, once for all, by 
inflicting punishment, to bring her to a sense of her errors. 

“ There, you need not trouble yourself to get ready, Capitola > 
you shall not go to the fair with us,” he said, as Cap took her 
seat. 


CAP’S TRICKS AND PERILS. 183 

“ Sir ! ” exclaimed the girl, in surprise. 

“ Oh, yes ; you may stare ; but I’m in earnest. You have 
behaved very badly; you have deeply offended our pastor; 
you have no reverence, no docility, no propriety, and I mean 
to bring you to a sense of your position by depriving you of 
some of your indulgences ; and, in a word, to begin I say you 
shall not go to the fair to-day.” 

“ You mean, sir, that I shall not go with you, although you 
promised that I should,” said Cap, coolly. 

“ I mean you shall not go at all, demmy ! ” 

“ I’d like to know who’ll prevent me,” said Cap. 

“ I will, Miss Vixen ! Demmy, I’ll not be set at naught by 
a beggar ! Mrs. Condiment, leave the room, mum, and don't 
be sitting there listening to every word I have to say to my 
ward. Wool, be off with yourself, sir ; what do you stand there 

gaping and staring for? Be off, or ” the old man looked 

around for a missile, but before he found one the room was 
evacuated except by himself and Capitola. 

“Now, minion,” he began, as soon as he found himself 
alone with the little rebel, “ I did not choose to mortify you 
before the servants, but, once for all, I will have you to under- 
stand that I intend to be obeyed.” And Old Hurricane 
“ gathered his brows like a gathering storm.” 

“ Sir, if you were really my uncle, or my father, or my legal 
guardian, I should have no choice but obey you ; but the 
same fate that made me desolate made me free — a freedom 
that I would not exchange for any gilded slavery,” said Cap, 
gaily. 

“ Pish ! tush ! pshaw ! I say I will have no more of this 
nonsense. I say I will be obeyed,” cried Old Hurricane, 
striking his cane down upon the floor, “ and in proof of it I 
order you immediately to go and take off that gala dress and 
settle yourself down to your studies for the day.” 

“ Uncle, I will obey you as far as taking off this dress goes, 
for, since you won’t give me a seat in your carriage, I shall 
have to put on my habit and ride Gyp,” said Cap, good hu- 
moredly. 

“ What ! Do you dare to hint that you have the slightest 
idea of going to the fair against my will?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Cap, gaily. “ Sorry it’s against your will, 
but can’t help it ; not used to being ordered about and don’t 
know how to submit, and so I’m going.” 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


184 

“ Ungrateful girl ; actually meditating disobedience on the 
horse I gave her ! ” 

“ Easy now, uncle — fair and easy. I did not sell my free 
will for Gyp ! I wouldn’t for a thousand Gyps ! He was a 
free gift,” said Capitola, beginning an impatient little dance 
about the floor. 

“ Come here to me ; come — here — to — me ! ” exclaimed 
the old man peremptorily, rapping his cane down upon the 
floor with every syllable. 

Capitola danced up to him and stood half smiling and fin- 
gering and arranging the lace of her under sleeves. 

“ Listen to me, you witch ! Do you intend to obey me or 
not? ” 

“ Not,” said Cap, good-humoredly adjusting her cameo 
bracelet and holding up her arm to see its effect. 

“ You will not ! Then, demmy, miss, I shall know how to 
make you ! ” thundered Old Hurricane, bringing the point of 
his stick down with a sharp rap. 

“ Eh ! ” cried Capitola, looking up in astonishment. 

“ Yes, miss ; that’s what I said — make you ! ” 

“ I should like to know how,” said Cap, returning to her 
cool good humor. 

“ You would, would you? Demmy, I’ll tell you! I have 
broken haughtier spirits than yours in my life. Would you 
know how? ” 

“ Yes,” said Cap, indifferently, still busied with her brace- 
lets. 

“ Stoop and I will whisper the mystery, ” 

Capitola bent her graceful head to hear. 

“ With the rod ! ” hissed Old Hurricane, maliciously. 

Capitola sprang up as if she had been shot, wave after wave 
of blood tiding up in burning blushes over neck, face and fore- 
head ; then, turning abruptly, she walked off to the window. 

Old Hurricane, terrified at the effect of his rude, rash words, 
stood excommunicating himself for having been provoked to 
use them ; nor was the next aspect of Capitola one calculated 
to reassure his perturbed feelings. 

She turned around. Her face was as white as marble, ex- 
cepting her glittering eyes ; they, half sheathed under their 
long lashes, flashed like stilettoes. Raising her hand and 
keeping her eyes fixed upon him, with a slow and glid- 
ing motion, and the deep and measured voice that scarcely 


CAP’S TRICKS AND PERILS. 185 

seemed to belong to a denizen of earth, she approached and 
stood before him and spoke these words : 

“Uncle, in all the sorrows, shames and sufferings of my 
destitute childhood, no one ever dishonored my person with a 
blow ; and if ever you should have the misfortune to forget 
your manhood so far as to strike me — ” She paused, drew 
her breath hard between her set teeth, grew a shade whiter, 
while her dark eyes dilated until a white ring flamed around 
the iris. 

“ Oh, you perilous witch ! what then ! ” cried Old Hurricane, 
in dismay. 

“ Why, then,” said Capitola, speaking in a low, deep and 
measured tone, and keeping her gaze upon his astonished 
face, “ the — first — time — I — should — find — you — asleep — I 
— would — take — a — razor — and ” 

“ Cut my throat ! I feel you would, you terrible terma- 
gant ! ” shuddered Old Hurricane. 

“ Shave your beard off smick, smack, smoove ! ” said Cap, 
bounding off and laughing merrily as she ran out of the 
room. 

In an instant she came bounding back, saying, “ Uncle, I 
will meet you at the fair ; au revoir , au revoir! ” and, kissing 
her hand, she dashed away and ran off to her room. 

“ She’ll kill me ; I know she will. If she don’t do it one 
way she will in another. Whew ! I’m perspiring at every 
pore. Wool ! Wool, you scoundrel ! ” exclaimed the old man, 
jerking the bell-rope as if he would have broken the wires. 

“ Yes, sir ; here I am, marse,” exclaimed that worthy, 
hastening in in a state of perturbation, for he dreaded another 
jtorm. 

“ Wool, go down to the stables and tell every man there 
that if either of them allows a horse to be brought out for the 
use of Miss Black ' to-day. I’ll flay them alive and break every 
bone in their skins. Away with you.” 

“ Yes, sir,” cried the shocked and terrified Wool, hurrying 
off to convey his panic to the stables. 

Old Hurricane’s carriage being ready, he entered it and 
drove off for the fair. 

Next the house servants, with the exception of Pitapat, who 
was commanded to remain behind and wait upon her mistress, 
went off in a wagon. 

When they were all gone, Capitola dressed herself in her 


1 86 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


riding-habit and sent Pitapat down to the stables to order one 
of the grooms to saddle Gyp and bring him up for her. 

Now, when the little maid delivered this message, the un- 
fortunate grooms were filled with dismay — they feared their 
tyrannical little mistress almost as much as their despotic old 
master, who, in the next change of his capricious temper, 
might punch all their heads for crossing the will of his favorite, 
even though in doing so they had followed his directions. 
An immediate private consultation was the consequence, and 
the result was that the head groom came to Pitapat, told her 
that he was sorry, but that Miss Black’s pony had fallen lame. 

The little maid went back with the answer. 

When she was gone the head groom, calling to his fellows, 
said : 

“ That young gal ain’t a-gwine to be fooled either by ole 
marse or we. She’ll be down here herself nex’ minute and 
have the horse walked out. Now we must make him lame a 
little. Light a match here, Jem, and I’ll bum his foot.” 

This was immediately done. And, sure enough, while poor 
Gyp was still smarting with his burn, Capitola came, holding 
up her riding train and hurrying to the scene, and asking in- 
dignantly : 

“ Who dares to say that my horse is lame ? Bring him out 
here this instant, that I may see him ! ” 

The groom immediately took poor Gyp and led him limping 
to the presence of his mistress. 

At the sight Capitola was almost ready to cry with grief and 
indignation. 

“He was not lame last evening. It must have been your 
carelessness, you good-for-nothing loungers ; and if he is not 
well enough to take me to the fair to-morrow, at least, I’ll 
have the whole set of you lamed for life ! ” she exclaimed, 
angrily, as she turned off and went up to the house — not caring 
so much, after all, for her own personal disappointment as for 
Old Hurricane’s triumph. 

Cap’s ill humor did not last long. She soon exchanged her 
riding-habit for a morning wrapper, and took her needle-work 
and sat down to sew by the side of Mrs. Condiment in the 
housekeeper’s room. 

The day passed as usual, only that just after sunset Mrs. 
Condiment, as a matter of precaution, went all over the house 
securing windows and doors before nightfall. Then, after an 


CAP’S TRICKS AND PERILS. 


187 

early tea, Mrs. Condiment, Capitola and the little maid Pita- 
pat gathered around the bright little wood fire that thf chilly 
spring evening made necessary in the housekeeper’ room. 
Mrs. Condiment was knitting, Capitola stitching a bosom for 
the major’s shirts and Pitapat winding yarn from a reel. 

The conversation of the three females left alone in the old 
house naturally turned upon subjects of fear — ghosts, witches 
and robbers. 

Mrs. Condiment had a formidable collection of accredited 
stories of apparitions, warnings, dreams, omens, etc., all true 
as gospel. There was a haunted house, she said, in their own 
neighborhood — The Hidden House. It was well authenticated 
that ever since the mysterious murder of Eugene Le Noir un- 
accountable sights and sounds had been seen and heard in 
and about the dwelling. A traveler, a brother officer of 
Colonel Le Noir, had slept there once, and, “in the dead 
waste and middle of the night,” had had his curtains drawn by 
a lady, pale and passing fair, dressed in white, with flowing 
hair, who, as soon as he attempted to speak to her, fled. And 
it was well known that there was no lady about the premises. 

Another time old Mr. Ezy himself, when out after coons, and 
coming through the woods near the house, had been attracted 
by seeing a window near the roof lighted up by a strange blue 
flame ; drawing near, he saw within the lighted room a female 
clothed in white passing and repassing the window. 

Another time, when old Major Warfield was out with his 
dogs, the chase led him past the haunted house, and as he 
swept by he caught a glimpse of a pale, wan, sorrowful female 
face pressed against the window pane of an upper room, 
which vanished in an instant. 

“ But might not that have been some young woman staying 
at the house?” asked Capitola. 

“ No, my child ; it is well ascertained that, since the mur- 
der of Eugene Le Noir and the disappearance of his lovely 
young widow, no white female has crossed the threshold of 
that fatal house,” said Mrs. Condiment. 

Disappearance,’ did you say? Can a lady of condition 
disappear from a neighborhood and no inquiry be made for 
her?” 

“ No, my dear ; there was inquiry, and it was answered 
plausibly — that Madame Eugene was insane and sent off to a 
lunatic asylum : but there are those who believe that the lovely 


188 THE HIDDEN HAND. 

lady wa. privately made away with,’’ whispered Mrs. Condi- 
ment. 

“ How dreadful ! I did not think such things happened in 
a quiet ci untry neighborhood. Something like that occurred, 
indeed, in New York, within my own recollection, however,” 
said Capitola, who straightway commenced and related the 
story of Mary Rogers and all other stories of terror that 
memory supplied her with. 

As for poor little Pitapat, she did not presume to enter into 
the conversation ; but, with her ball of yarn suspended in her 
hand, her eyes started until they threatened to burst from their 
sockets, and her chin dropped until her mouth gaped wide 
open, she sat and swallowed every word, listening with a thou- 
sand audience power. 

By the time they had frightened themselves pretty thoroughly 
the clock struck eleven and they thought it was time to retire. 

“ Will you be afraid, Mrs. Condiment? ” asked Capitola. 

“ Well, my dear, if I am I must try to trust in the Lord to 
overcome it, since it is no use to be afraid. I have fastened 
up the house well, and I have brought in Growler, the bull- 
dog, to sleep on the mat outside of my bedroom door, so I 
shall say my prayers and try to go to sleep. I dare say there 
is no danger, only it seems lonesome like for us three women 
to be left in this big house by ourselves.” 

“ Yes,” said Capitola ; “ but, as you say, there is no danger ; 
and as for me, if it will give you any comfort or courage to 
hear me say it, I am not the least afraid, although I sleep in 
such a remote room and have no one but Patty, who, having 
no more heart that a hare, is not near such a powerful protector 
as Growler.” And, bidding her little maid take up the night 
lamp, Capitola wished Mrs. Condiment good-night and left 
the housekeeper’s room. 


THE PERIL AND THE PLUCK OP CAP. 189 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE PERIL AND THE PLUCK OF CAP. 

“ Who that had seen her form so light 
For swiftness only turned, 

Would e’er have thought in a thing so slight 
Such a fiery spirit burned ? ” 

Very dreary looked the dark and silent passages as they 
went on toward Capitola’s distant chamber. 

When at last they reached it, however, and opened the door, 
the cheerful scene within quite reanimated Capitola’s spirits. 
The care of her little maid had prepared a blazing wood fire 
that lighted up the whole room brightly, glowing on the 
crimson curtains of the bed and the crimson hangings of the 
windows opposite and flashing upon the high mirror between 
them. 

Capitola, having secured her room in every way, stood 
before her dressing bureau and began to take off her collar, 
under sleeves and other small articles of dress. As she stood 
there her mirror, brilliantly lighted up by both lamp and fire, 
reflected clearly the opposite bed, with its warm crimson 
curtains, white coverlet and little Pitapat flitting from post to 
post as she tied back the curtains or smoothed the sheets. 

Capitola stood unclasping her bracelets and smiling to 
herself at the reflected picture — the comfortable nest in which 
she was so soon to curl herself up in sleep. While she was 
smiling thus she tilted the mirror downwards a little for her 
better convenience, and, looking into it again 

Horror ! What did she see reflected there ? Under the 
bed a pair of glaring eyes watching her from the shadows ! 

A sick sensation of fainting came over her ; but, mastering 
the weakness, she tilted the glass a little lower, until it reflected 
all the floor, and looked again. 

Horror of horrors there were three stalwart ruffians, armed 
to the teeth, lurking in ambush under her bed ! 

The deadly inclination to swoon returned upon her ; but 


1 90 THE HIDDEN HAND. 

with a heroic effort she controlled her fears and forced herself 
to look. 

Yes, there they were ! It was no dream, no illusion, no 
nightmare — there they were, three powerful desperadoes armed 
with bowie knives and revolvers, the nearest one crouching low 
and watching her with his wolfish eyes, that shone like phos- 
phorus in the dark. 

What should she do ? The danger was extreme, the 
necessity of immediate action imminent, the need of perfect 
self-control absolute ! There was Pitapat flitting about the 
bed in momentary danger of looking under it ! If she should 
their lives would not be worth an instant’s purchase ! Their 
throats would be cut before they should utter a second scream ! 
It was necessary, therefoje, to call Pitapat away from the bed, 
where her presence was as dangerous as the proximity of a 
lighted candle to an open powder barrel ! 

But how to trust her voice to do this ? A single quaver in 
her tones would betray her consciousness of their presence to 
the lurking robbers and prove instantly fatal ! 

Happily Capitola’s pride in her own courage came to her 
aid. 

“ Is it possible,” she said to herself, “ that after all I am a 
coward and have not even nerve and will enough to command 
the tones of my own voice? Fie on it ! Cowardice is worse 
than death ! ” 

And summoning all her resolution she spoke up, glibly : 

“ Patty, come here and unhook my dress.” 

“ Yes, miss, I will just as soon as I get your slippers from 
unnemeaf of de bed ! ” 

“ I don’t want them ! Come here this minute and unhook 
my dress — I can’t breathe ! Plague take these country dress- 
makers — they think the tighter they screw one up the more 
fashionable they make one appear ! Come, I say, and set 
my lungs at liberty.” 

“ Yes, miss, in one minute,” said Pitapat ; and to Capitola’s 
unspeakable horror the little maid stooped down and felt along 
under the side of the bed, from the head post to the foot post, 
until she put her hands upon the slippers and brought them 
forth ! Providentially, the poor little wretch had not for an 
instant put her stupid head under the bed, or used her eyes 
in the search — that was all that saved them from instant 
massacre ! 


THE PERIL AND THE PLUCK OF CAP. 191 

“ Here dey is, CaterpiMar ! I knows how yer foots mus’ be 
as much out of breaf wid yer tight gaiters as your waist is long 
of yer tight dress.” 

“ Unhook me ! ” said Capitola, tilting up the glass lest the 
child should see what horrors were reflected there. 

The little maid began to obey and Capitola tried to think 
of some plan to escape their imminent danger. To obey the 
natural impulse — to fly from the room would be instantly fatal 
— they would be followed and murdered in the hall before they 
eould possibly give the alarm ! And to whom could she give 
the alarm when there was not another creature in the house 
except Mrs. Condiment? 

While she was turning these things over in her mind it 
occurred to her that “ man’s extremity is God’s opportunity.” 
Sending up a silent prayer to heaven for help at need, she 
suddenly thought of a plan — it was full of difficulty, uncertainty 
and peril, affording not one chance in fifty of success, yet the 
only possible plan of escape ! It was to find some plausible 
pretext for leaving the room without exciting suspicion, which 
would be fatal. Controlling her tremors, and speaking cheer- 
fully, she asked : 

“ Patty, do you know whether there were any of those nice 
quince tarts left from dinner? ” 

“ Lor’, yes, miss, a heap on ’em ! Ole Mis’ put ’em away in 
her cubberd.” 

" Was there any baked custard left?” 

“ Lor’, yes Miss Caterpillar ; dere was nobody but we-dens 
three, and think I could eat up all as was left? ” 

“ I don’t know but you might ! Well, is there any pear 
sauce ? ” 

“ Yes, miss, a big bowl full.” 

“ Well, I wish you’d go down and bring me up a tart, a 
cup of custard and a spoonful of pear sauce. Sitting up so 
late makes me as hungry as a wolf ! Come, Patty, go 
along ! ” 

“ Deed, miss, I’se ’fraid ! ” whimpered the little maid. 

“ Afraid of what, you goose ? 

“ ’Fraid of meeting of a ghose in the dark places ! ” 

“ Pooh ! you can take the light with you ! I can stay here 
in the dark well enough.” 

“ ’Deed, miss, I’se ’fraid ! ” 

“ What ! with the candle, you blockhead?*' 


192 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Lors, miss, de candle wouldn’t be no ’tection ! I’d see 
de ghoses all de plainer wid de candle ! ” 

“ What a provoking, stupid dolt ! You’re a proper maid — 
afraid to do my bidding ! Afraid of ghosts, forsooth. Well, 
I suppose I shall have to go myself — plague on you for an 
aggravating thing! There — take the candle and come along ! ” 
said Capitola, in a tone of impatience. 

Pitapat took up the light and stood ready to accompany her 
mistress, Capitola, humming a gay tune, went to the door and 
unlocked and opened it. 

She wished to withdraw the key, so as to lock it on the 
other side and secure the robbers and insure the safety of her 
own retreat ; but to do this without betraying her purpose and 
destroying her own life seemed next to impossible. Still 
singing gayly she ran over in her mind with the quickness of 
lightning every possible means by which she might withdraw 
the key silently, or without attracting the attention of the 
watchful robbers. It is difficult to say what she would have 
done, had not chance instantly favored her. 

At the same moment that she unlocked and opened the door 
and held the key in her hand fearful of withdrawing it, 
Pitapat, who was hurrying after her with the candle, tripped 
and fell against a chair, with a great noise, under cover of 
which Capitola drew forth the key. 

Scolding and pushing Pitapat out before her, she closed 
the door with a bang. With the quickne«s of lightning 
she slipped the key in the key-hole and turned the lock, 
covering the whole with loud and angry railing against poor 
Pitapat, who silently wondered at this unhappy change in her 
mistress’s temper, but ascribed it all to hunger, muttering to 
herself : 

“ I’se offen hem tell how people’s cross when dere empty ! 
Lors knows ef I don’t fetch up a whole heap o’ wittels ebery 
night for Miss Caterpillar from dis time forred, so I will — 
’deed me ! ” 

So they went on through the long passages and empty rooms. 
Capitola carefully locking every door behind her until she got 
down-stairs into the great hall. 

“ Now, Miss Caterpillar, ef you wants quint tart, an’ pear 
sass, and baked cussets, an’ all dem, you’ll jest has to go an’ 
wake Ole Mis’ up, case dey’s in her cubbed an’ she’s got the 
keys,” said Pitapat. 


THE PERIL AND THE PLUCK OF CAP. 193 

“ Never mind, Patty, you follow me,” said Capitola, going 
to the front hall door and beginning to unlock it and take 
down the bars and withdraw the bolts. 

“ Lors, miss, what is yer a-doin’ of?” asked the little maid, 
in wonder, as Capitola opened the door and looked out. 

“ I am going out a little way and you must go with me ! ” 

“ Deed, miss, Fse ’fraid 1 ” 

“ Very well, then, stay here in the dark until I come back, 
but don’t go to my room, because you might meet a ghost on 
the way ! ” 

“ Oh, Miss, I daren’t stay here — indeed I daren’t ! ” 

“ Then you’ll have to come along with me, and so no more 
about it,” said Capitola, sharply, as she passed out from the 
door. The poor little maid followed, bemoaning the fate that 
bound her to so capricious a mistress. 

Capitola drew the key from the hall door and locked it on 
the outside. Then clasping her hands and raising her eyes to 
heaven, she fervently ejaculated : 

“ Thank God — oh, thank God that we are safe ! ” 

“ Lors, miss, was we in danger? ” 

“ We are not now at any rate, Pitapat ! Come along ! ” said 
Capitola, hurrying across the lawn toward the open fields. 

“ Oh, my goodness, miss, where is yer-a-goin’ of ? Don’t 
less us run so fur from home dis lonesome, wicked, onlawful 
hour o’ de night ! ” whimpered the distressed little darkey, 
fearing that her mistress was certainly crazed. 

“ Now, then, what are you afraid of?” asked Capitola, 
seeing her hold back. 

“ Lors, miss, you knows— eberybody knows— Brack Dunnel ! ” 

“ Patty, come close — listen to me — don’t scream — Black 
Donald and his men are up there at the house — in my chamber, 
under the bed,” whispered Capitola. 

Pitapat could not scream, for though her mouth was wide 
open, her breath was quite gone. Shivering with fear, she 
kept close to her mistress’s heels as Capitola scampered over 
the fields. 

A run of a quarter of a mile brought them to the edge of 
the woods, where in its little garden stood the overseer’s 
house. 

Capitola opened the gate, hurried through the little front 
yard and rapped loudly at the door. 

This startled the house dog into furious barking and brought 


194 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


old Mr. Ezy, with his night-capped head, to the window 
to see what was the matter. 

« It is I — Capitola, Mr. Ezy — Black Donald and his men 
are lurking up at the house,” said our young heroine, com- 
mencing in an eager and hurried voice, and giving the overseer 
an account of the manner in which she had discovered the 
presence of the robbers, and left the room without alarming 
them. 

The old man heard with many cries of astonishment, ejacula- 
tions of prayer, and exclamations of thanksgiving. And all 
the while his head was bobbing in and out of the window, as 
he pulled on his pantaloons or buttoned his coat. 

“ And oh ! ” he said, at last, as he opened the door to 
Capitola, “how providential that Mr. Herbert Greyson is 
arrove ! 

“ Herbert Greyson ! Herbert Greyson arrived ! Where is 
he, then? ” exclaimed Capitola, in surprise and joy. 

“ Yes, sartain ! Mr. Herbert arrove about an hour ago, 
and thinking you all abed and asleep at the Hall, he just 
stopped in with us all night ! I’ll go and see — I doubt 
if he’s gone to bed yet,” said Mr. Ezy, withdrawing into the 
house. 

“ Oh, thank heaven ! thank heaven ! ” exclaimed Capitola, 
just as the door opened and Herbert sprang forward to greet 
her with a — 

“ Dear Capitola ! ” I am so glad to come to see you ! ” 

“ Dear Herbert, just fancy you have said that a hundred 
times over and that I have replied to the same words a hundred 
times — for we haven’t a moment to spare,” said Capitola, 
shaking his hands, and then, in an eager, vehement manner, 
recounting her discovery and escape from the robbers whom 
she had locked up in the house. 

“ Go, now,” she said, in conclusion, “ and help Mr. Ezy 
to rouse up and arm the farm hands and come immediately 
to the house ! I am in agony lest my prolonged absence 
should excite the robbers’ suspicion of my ruse, and that they 
should break out and perhaps murder poor Mrs. Condiment. 
Her situation is awful, if she did but know it ! For the love 
of mercy, hasten l ” 

Not an instant more of time was lost. Mr. Ezy and Herbert 
Greyson, accompanied by Capitola and Patty, hurried at once 
to the negro quarters, roused up and armed the men with 


THE PERIL AND THE PLUCK OF CAP. 195 

whatever was at hand, and, enjoining them to be as stealthy as 
cats in their approach, set out swiftly for the Hall, where they 
soon arrived. 

“ Take off all your shoes and walk lightly in your stocking 
feet do not speak — do not breathe — follow me as silent as 
death,” said Herbert Greyson, as he softly unlocked the front 
door and entered the house. 

Silently and stealthily they passed through the middle hall, 
up the broad staircase, and through the long, narrow passages 
and steep stairs that led to Capitola’s remote chamber. 

There at the door they paused awhile to listen. 

All was still within. 

Herbert Greyson unlocked the door, withdrew the key, and 
opened it and entered the room, followed by all the men. He 
had scarcely time to close the door and lock it on the inside, 
and withdraw the key, before the robbers, finding themselves 
surprised, burst out from their hiding place and made a rush 
for the passage ; but their means of escape had been already 
cut off by the forethought of Herbert Greyson. 

A sharp conflict ensued. 

Upon first being summoned to surrender the robbers 
responded by a hail-storm of bullets from their revolvers, 
followed instantly by a charge of bowie knives. This was met 
by an avalanche of blows from pick-axes, pokers, pitch-forks, 
sledge-hammers, spades and rakes, beneath which the miscreants 
were quickly beaten down and overwhelmed. 

They were then set upon and bound with strong ropes 
brought for the purpose by Mr. Ezy. 

When they were thus secured, hand and foot, Capitola, who 
had been a spectator of the whole scene, and exposed as much 
as any other to the rattle of the bullets, now approached and 
looked at the vanquished. 

Black Donald certainly was not one of the party, who were 
no other than our old acquaintances — Hal, Steve and Dick — 
of the band ! 

Each burglar was conveyed to a separate apartment and a 
strong guard set over him. 

Then Herbert Greyson, who had received a flesh wound in 
his left arm, returned to the scene of the conflict to look after 
the wounded. Several of the negroes had received gun-shot 
wounds of more or less importance. These were speedily 
attended to. Mrs. Condiment, who had slept securely through 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


196 

all the fight, was now awakened by Capitola, and cautiously 
informed of what had taken place and assured that all danger 
was now over. 

The worthy woman, as soon as she recovered from the con- 
sternation into which the news had plunged her, at once set 
about succoring the wounded. Cots and mattresses were 
made up in one of the empty rooms and bandages and balsams 
prepared. 

And not until all who had been hurt were made comfortable, 
did Herbert Greyson throw himself upon horseback, and ride 
off to the county seat to summon the authorities, and to 
inform Major Warfield of what had happened. 

No one thought of retiring to bed at Hurricane Hall that 
night. 

Mrs. Condiment, Capitola and Patty sat watching by the 
bedsides of the wounded. 

Bill Ezy and the men who had escaped injury mounted 
guard over the prisoners. 

Thus they all remained until sunrise, when the Major, 
attended by the Deputy Sheriff and half a dozen constables, 
arrived. The night ride of several miles had not sufficed to 
modify the fury into which Old Hurricane had been thrown 
by the news Herbert Greyson had aroused him from sleep to 
communicate. He reached Hurricane Hall in a state of 
excitement that his factotum Wool characterized as “ boiling.” 
But “ in the very torrent, tempest and whirlwind of his 
passion ” he remembered that to rail at the vanquished, 
wounded and bound was unmanly, and so he did not trust 
himself to see or speak to the prisoners. 

They were placed in a wagon and under a strong escort of 
constables were conveyed by the Deputy Sheriff to the county 
seat, where they were securely lodged in jail. 

But Old Hurricane’s emotions of one sort or another were 
a treat to see ! He bemoaned the sufferings of his poor 
wounded men ; he raved at the danger to which his “ women- 
kind ” had been exposed, and he exulted in the heroism of 
Capitola, catching her up in his arms and crying out : 

“ Oh, my dear Cap ! My heroine ! My queen ! And it 
was you against whom I was plotting treason — ninny that I 
was ! You that have saved my house from pillage and my 
people from slaughter ! Oh, Cap, what a jewel you are — my 
dear ! ” 


SEEKING HIS FORTUNE. 197 

To all of which Capitola, extricating her curly head from his 
embrace, cried only : 

“ Bother ! ” 

Utterly refusing to be made a lioness of, and firmly rejecting 
the grand triumph. 

The next day Major Warfield went up to the county seat to 
attend the examination of the three burglars, whom he had the 
satisfaction of seeing fully committed to prison to await their 
trial at the next term of the Criminal Court, which would not 
sit until October ; consequently the prisoners had the prospect 
of remaining in jail some months, which Old Hurricane 
declared to be “ some satisfaction.” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

SEEKING HIS FORTUNE. 

A wide future smiles before him. 

His heart will beat for fame, 

And he will learn to breathe with love 
The music of a name, 

Writ on the tablets of his heart 
In characters of flame. — Sargent. 

When the winter’s course of medical lectures at the 
Washington College was over, late in the spring, Traverse 
Rocke returned to Willow Heights. 

The good doctor gave him a glad welcome, congratulating 
him upon his improved appearance and manly bearing. 

Clara received him with blushing pleasure, and Marah Rocke 
with all the mother’s love for her only child. 

He quickly fell into the old pleasant routine of his country 
life, resumed his arduous studies in the doctor’s office, his 
work in the flower garden, and his morning rides and evening 
talk with the doctor’s lovely child. 

Not the least obstacle was set in the way of his association 
with Clara, yet Traverse, grown stronger and wiser than his 
years would seem to promise, controlled both his feelings and 
his actions, and never departed from the most respectful 
reserve, or suffered himself to be drawn into that dangerous 
familiarity to which their constant companionship might tempt 
him. 

Marah Rocke, with maternal pride, witnessed his constant 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


198 

self-control and encouraged him to persevere. Often in the 
enthusiasm of her heart, when they were alone, she would 
throw her arm around him, and push the dark, clustering curls 
from his fine forehead, and, gazing fondly on his face, exclaim : 

“ That is my noble-hearted boy ! Oh, Traverse, God will 
bless you ! He only tries you now to strengthen you ! 

Traverse always understood these vague words and would 
return her embrace with all his boyish ardor and say : 

“ God does bless me now, mother ! He blesses me so much, 
in so many, many ways, that I should be worse than a heathen 
not to be willing to bear cheerfully one trial? ” 

And so Traverse would “ reck his own rede ” and cultivate 
cheerful gratitude as a duty to God and man. 

Clara, also, now, with her feminine intuition, comprehended 
her reserved lover, honored his motives and rested satisfied 
with being so deeply loved, trusting all their unknown future 
to heaven. 

The doctor’s appreciation and esteem for Traverse increased 
with every new unfolding of the youth’s heart and intellect, 
and never did master take more pains with a favorite pupil, 
or father with a beloved son, than did the doctor to push 
Traverse on in his profession. The improvement of the youth 
was truly surprising. 

Thus passed the summer in healthful alternation of study and 
exercise. 

When the season waned, late in the autumn, he went a 
second time to Washington to attend the winter’s course of 
lectures at the Medical College. 

The doctor gave him letters recommending him as a young 
man of extraordinary talents and of excellent moral character, 
to the particular attention of several of the most eminent 
professors. 

His mother bore this second parting with more cheerfulness, 
especially as the separation was enlivened by frequent 
letters from Traverse, full of the history of the present and the 
hopes of the future. 

The doctor did not forget from time to time to jog the 
memories of his friends, the professors of the medical college, 
that they might afford his prot£g£ every facility and assistance 
in the prosecution of his studies. 

Toward spring Traverse wrote to his friends that his hopes 
•were sanguine of obtaining his diploma at the examination to 


SEEKING HIS FORTUNE. 


199 


be held at the end of the session. And when Traverse 
expressed this hope, they who knew him so well felt assured 
that he had made no vain boast. 

And so it proved, for early in April Traverse Rocke returned 
home with a diploma in his pocket. 

Sincere was the joyful sympathy that met him. 

The doctor shook him cordially by the hands, declaring that 
he was the first student he ever knew to get his diploma at 
the end of only three years’ study. 

Clara, amid smiles and blushes, congratulated him. 

And Mrs. Rocke, as soon as she had him alone, threw her 
arms around his neck and wept for joy. 

A few days Traverse gave up solely to enjoyment of his 
friends’ society, and then, growing restless, he began to talk 
of opening an office and hanging out a sign in Staunton. 

He consulted the doctor upon this subject. The good 
doctor heard him out and then, caressing his own chin and 
looking over the tops of his spectacles, with good-humored 
satire, he said : 

“ My dear boy, you have confidence enough in me by this 
time to bear that I should speak plainly to you?” 

“ Oh, Doctor Day, just say whatever you like ! ” replied the 
young man, fervently. 

“ Very well, then. I shall speak very plainly — to wit — you’ll 
never succeed in Staunton ! No, not if you had the genius of 
Galen and Esculapius, Abemethy and Benjamin Rush put 
together ! ” 

“ My dear sir — why? ” 

“ Because, my son, it is written that * a prophet hath no 
honor in his own city ! ’ Of our blessed Lord and Saviour the 
contemptuous Jews said, ‘ Is not this Jesus, the carpenter’s 
son? ” 

“ Oh, I understand you, sir ! ” said Traverse, with a deep 
blush. " You mean that the people who used some years ago 
to employ me to put in thair coal ana saw their wood and run 
their errands, will never trust me to look at their tongues and 
feel their pulses and write prescriptions ! ” 

“ That’s it, my boy ! You’ve defined the difficulty ! And 
now I’ll tell you what you are to do, Traverse ! You must go 
to the West, my lad ! ” 

“ Go to the West, sir — leave my mother — leave you — leave M 
—he hesitated and blushed. 


200 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Clara? Yes, my son, you must go to the West, leave 
your mother, leave me and leave Clara ! It will be best for all 
parties ! We managed to live without our lad, when he was 
away at his studies in Washington, and we will try to dispense 
with him longer if it be for his own good.” 

“ Ah, sir ; but then absence had a limitation, and the hope 
of return sweetened every day that passed ; but if I go to the 
West to settle it will be without the remotest hope of 
returning ! ” 

“ Not so, my boy — not so — for just as soon as Doctor 
Rocke has established himself in some thriving western town 
and obtained a good practice, gained a high reputation and 
made himself a home — which, as he is a fast young man, in the 
best sense of the phrase — he can do in a very few years — he 
yiay come back here and carry to his western home — his 
mother,” said the doctor, with a mischievous twinkle of his 
eyes. 

“ Doctor Day, I owe you more than a son’s honor and 
obedience ! I will go wherever you think it best that I should,” 
said Traverse, earnestly. 

“ No more than I expected from all my previous knowledge 
of you, Traverse ! And I, on my part, will give you only such 
counsel as I should give my own son, had heaven blessed me 
with one. And now, Traverse, there is no better season fo? 
emigration than the spring, and no better point to stop and 
make observations at than St. Louis ! Of course, the place o$ 
your final destination must be left for future consideration. £ 
have influential friends at St. Louis to whom I will give 
you letters.” 

“ Dear sir, to have matured this plan so well you must have 
been kindly thinking of my future this long time past ! ” said 
Traverse, gratefully. 

“ Of course — of course ! Who has a better right? Now go 
and break this plan to your mother.” 

Traverse pressed the doctor’s hand and went to seek his 
mother. He found her in his room busy among his clothing. 
He begged her to stop and sit down while he talked to her. 
And when she had done so, he told her the doctor’s plan. He 
had almost feared that his mother would meet this proposition 
with sighs and tears. 

To his surprise and pleasure, Mrs. Rocke received the news 
with an encouraging smile, telling him that the doctor had 


SEEKING HIS FORTUNE. 


201 


long prepared her to expect that her boy would very properly 
go and establish himself in the West ; that she should correspond 
with him frequently, and as soon as he should be settled, come 
and keep house for him. 

Finally she said that, anticipating this emergency, she had, 
during her three years’ residence beneath the doctor’s roof, 
saved three hundred dollars, which she should give her boy to 
start with. 

The tears rushed to the young man’s eyes. 

“ For your dear sake, mother, only for yours, may they 
become three hundred thousand in my hands ! ” he exclaimed. 

Preparations were immediately commenced for Traverse’s 
journey. 

As before, Clara gladly gave her aid in getting ready his 
wardrobe. As he was about to make his debut as a young 
physician in a strange city, his mother was anxious that his 
dress should be faultless ; and, therefore, put the most delicate 
needlework upon all the little articles of his outfit. Clara 
volunteered to mark them all. And one day, when Traverse 
happened to be alone with his mother, she showed him his 
handkerchiefs, collars and linen beautifully marked in minute 
embroidered letters. 

“ I suppose, Traverse, that you, being a young man, cannot 
appreciate the exquisite beauty of this work,” she said. 

“ Indeed, but I can, mother ! I did not sit by your side so 
many years while you worked without knowing something about 
it. This is wonderful ! The golden thread with which the 
letters are embroidered is finer than the finest silk I ever saw ! ” 
said Traverse, admiringly, to please his mother, whom he 
supposed to be the embroideress. 

“ Well they may be ! ” said Mrs. Rocke, “for that golden 
thread of which you speak is Clara’s golden hair, which she 
herself has drawn out and threaded her needle with, and 
worked into the letters of your name.” 

Traverse suddenly looked up, his color went and came, he 
had no words to reply. 

“ I told you because I thought it would give you pleasure to 
know it, and that it would be a comfort to you when you are 
far away from us ; for, Traverse, I hope that by this time you 
have grown strong and wise enough to have conquered yourself, 
and to enjoy dear Clara’s friendship aright ! ” 

“ Mother ! ” he said, sorrowfully, and then his voice broke 


202 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


down, and without another word he turned and left the 
room. 

To feel how deeply and hopelessly he loved the doctor’s 
sweet daughter — to feel sure that she perceived and returned 
his dumb, despairing love — and to know that duty, gratitude, 
honor commanded him to be silent, to tear himself away from 
her and make no sign, was a trial almost too great for the 
young heart’s integrity. Scarcely could he prevent the internal 
struggle betraying itself upon his countenance. As the time 
drew near for his departure self-control grew difficult and 
almost impossible. Even Clara lost her joyous spirits and 
despite all her efforts to be cheerful, grew so pensive that her 
father, without seeming to understand the cause, gayly rallied 
her upon her dejection. 

Traverse understood it and almost longed for the day to 
come when he should leave this scene of his love and his sore 
trial. 

One afternoon, a few days before he was to start, Doctor 
Day sent for Traverse to come to him in his study. And as 
soon as they were seated comfortably together at the table the 
doctor put into the young man’s hand a well-filled pocketbook ; 
and when Traverse, with a deep and painful blush, would have 
given it back, he forced it upon him with the old argument : 

“ It is only a loan, my boy ! Money put out at interest ! 
Capital well and satisfactorily invested ! And now listen to 
me l I am about to speak to you of that which is much nearer 
your heart ” 

Traverse became painfully embarrassed. 

“ Traverse,” resumed the doctor, “ I have grown to love 
you as a son, and to esteem you as a man. I have lived long 
enough to value solid integrity far beyond wealth or birth, 
and when that integrity is adorned and enriched by high 
talents, it forms a character of excellence not often met with 
in this world. I have proved both your integrity and your 
talents, Traverse, and I am more than satisfied with you — I 
am proud of you, my boy.” 

Traverse bowed deeply, but still blushed. 

“ You will wonder,” continued the doctor, “ to what all 
this talk tends. I will tell you. Traverse, I have long known 
your unspoken love for Clara, and I have honored your scruples 
in keeping silent, when silence must have been so painful. 
Your trial is now over, my son ! Go and open for yourself an 


SEEKING HIS FORTUNE. 


203 

honorable career in the profession you have chosen and mas- 
tered, and return, and Clara shall be yours ! ” 

Traverse, overwhelmed with surprise and joy at this incred- 
ible good fortune, seized the doctor’s hand, and in wild and 
incoherent language tried to express his gratitude. 

“ There — there,” said the doctor, “ go and tell Clara all this 
and bring the roses back to her cheeks, and then your parting 
will be the happier for this hope before you.” 

“ I must speak ! I must speak first ! ” said the young man, 
in a choking voice. “ I must tell you some little of the deep 
gratitude I feel for you, sir. Oh, when I forget all that you 
have done for me, ‘ may my right hand forget her cunning ! * 
may God and man forget me ! Doctor Day, the Lord help- 
ing me for your good sake, I will be all that you have proph- 
esied, and hope and expect of me ! For your sake, for Clara’s 
and my mother’s, I will bend every power of my mind, soul 
and body to attain the eminence you desire for me ! In a 
word, the Lord giving me grace, I will become worthy of 
being your son and Clara’s husband.” 

“ There, there, my dear boy, go and tell Clara all that ! ” said 
the doctor, pressing the young man’s hand and dismissing him. 

Traverse went immediately to seek Clara, whom he found 
sitting alone in the parlor. 

She was bending over some delicate needlework that 
Traverse knew by instinct was intended for himself. 

Now, had Traverse foreseen from the first the success of 
his love, there might possibly have been the usual shyness and 
hesitation in declaring himself to the object of his affection. 
But although he and Clara had long deeply and silently loved 
and understood each other, yet neither had dared to hope for 
so improbable an event as the doctor’s favoring their attach- 
ment, and now, under the exciting influence of the surprise, 
joy and gratitude with which the doctor’s magnanimity had 
filled his heart, Traverse forgot all shyness and hesitation, 
and, stepping quickly to Clara’s side, and dropping gently 
upon one knee, he took her hand, and, bowing his head upon 
it, said : 

“ Clara, my own, own Clara, your dear father has given me 
leave to tell you at last how much and how long I have loved 
you ! ” and then he arose and sat down beside her. 

The blush deepened upon Clara’s cheek, tears filled her 
eyes, and her voice trembled as she murmured : 


204 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Heaven bless my dear father ! He is unlike every othei 
man on earth ! ” 

“ Oh, he is — he is ! ” said Traverse, fervently, “ and, dear 
Clara, never did a man strive so hard for wealth, fame, or 
glory, as I shall strive to become ‘ worthy to be called his 
son ! ’ ” 

“ Do, Traverse — do, dear Traverse ! I want you to honor 
even his very highest drafts upon your moral and intellectual 
capacities ! I know you are * worthy ’ of his high regard now, 
else he never would have chosen you as his son — but I 
am ambitious for you, Traverse ! I would have your motto be, 
* Excelsior ! * — higher ! ” said the doctor’s daughter. 

“ And you, dear Clara, may I venture to hope that you do 
not disapprove of your father’s choice, or reject the hand that 
he permits me to offer you ? ” said Traverse, for though he 
understood Clara well enough, yet like all honest men, he 
wanted some definite and practical engagement. 

“ There is my hand — my heart was yours long ago,” mur- 
mured the maiden, in a tremulous voice. 

He took and pressed that white hand to his heart, looked 
hesitatingly and pleadingly in her face for an instant, and 
then, drawing her gently to his bosom, sealed their betrothal 
on her pure lips. 

Then they sat side by side, and hand in hand, in a sweet 
silence for a few moments, and then Clara said : 

“ You have not told your mother yet ! Go and tell her, 
Traverse ; it will make her so happy ! And Traverse, I will 
be a daughter to her, while you are gone. Tell her that, 
too.” 

“ Dear girl, you have always been as kind and loving to my 
mother as it was possible to be. How can you ever be more 
so than you have been? ” 

“ I shall find a way ! ” smiled Clara. 

Again he pressed her hand to his heart and to his lips, and 
left the room to find his mother. He had a search before he 
discovered her at last in the drawing-room, arranging it for 
their evening fireside gathering. 

“ Come, mother, and sit down by me on this sofa, for I 
have glorious tidings for your ear ! Dear Clara sent me from 
her own side to tell you 1 ” 

“ Ah, still thinking — always thinking, madly thinking of the 
doctor’s daughter ! Poor, poor boy ! ” said Mrs. Rocke. 


SEEKING HIS FORTUNE. 


205 


“ Yes, and always intend to think of her to the very end of 
my life, and beyond, if possible ! But come, dear mother, 
and hear me explain ! ” said Traverse, and as soon as Mrs. 
Rocke had taken the indicated seat, Traverse commenced 
and related to her the substance of the conversation between 
the doctor and himself in the library, in which the former 
authorized his addresses to his daughter, and also his own sub- 
sequent explanation and engagement with Clara. 

Mrs. Rocke listened to all this, in unbroken silence, and 
when, at length, Traverse had concluded his story, she clasped 
her hands and raised her eyes, uttering fervent thanksgivings 
to the fountain of all mercies. 

“ You do not congratulate me, dear mother.” 

“ Oh, Traverse, I am returning thanks to heaven on your 
behalf ! Oh, my son ! my son ; but that such things as these 
are Providential, I should tremble to see you so happy ! So 
I will not presume to congratulate ! I will pray for you ! ” 

“ Dear mother, you have suffered so much in your life that 
you are incredulous of happiness ! Be more hopeful and con- 
fiding ! The Bible says, ‘ There remaineth now these 
three — Faith, Hope and Charity — but the greatest of all is 
Charity/ You have Charity enough, dear mother ; try to have 
more Faith and Hope, and you will be happier ! And look — 
there is Clara coming this way ! She does not know that we 
are here. I will call her. Dear Clara, come in and convince 
my mother — she will not believe in our happiness,” said Tra- 
verse, going to the door and leading his blushing and smiling 
betrothed into the room. 

“ It may be that Mrs. Rocke does not want me for a daugh- 
ter-in-law,” said Clara, archly, as she approached and put her 
hand in that of Marah. 

“ Not want you, my own darling ! ” said Marah Rocke, put- 
ting her arm around Clara’s waist, and drawing her to her 
bosom, “ not want you ! You know I am just as much in love 
with you as Traverse himself can be ! And I have longed for 
you, my sweet, longed for you as an unattainable blessing, 
ever since that day when Traverse first left us, and you came 
and laid your bright head on my bosom and wept with me!” 

“ And now if we must cry a little when Traverse leaves us, 
we can go and take comfort in being miserable together, with 
a better understanding of our relations ! ” said Clara with an 
arch smile. 


206 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Where are you all? Where is everybody — that I am left 
wandering about the lonely house like a poor ghost in Hades? ” 
said the doctor’s cheerful voice in the passage without. 

“ Here, father — here we are — a family party, wanting only 
you to complete it,” answered his daughter, springing to meet 
him. 

The doctor came in smiling, pressed his daughter to his 
bosom, shook Traverse cordially by the hand, and kissed 
Marah Rocke’s cheek. That was his way of congratulating 
himself and all others on the betrothal. 

The evening was passed in unalloyed happiness. 

Let them enjoy it ! It was their last of comfort — that 
bright evening ! 

Over that household was already gathering a cloud heavy 
and dark with calamity — calamity that must have overwhelmed 
the stability of any faith which was not as theirs was— stayed 
upon God. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A PANIC IN THE OUTLAW’S DEN. 

Imagination frames events unknown, 

In wild, fantastic shapes of hideous ruin, 

And what it fears creates ! 

—Hannah More. 

Dark doubt and fear, o’er other spirits lower, 

But touch not his, who every waking hour, 

Has one fixed hope and always feels its power. 

— Crabbe. 

Upon the very same night, that the three robbers were sur- 
prised and captured by the presence of mind of Capitola at 
Hurricane Hall, Black Donald, disguised as a negro, was lurk- 
ing in the woods around the mansion, waiting for the coming 
of his three men with their prize. 

But as hour after hour passed and they came not, the des- 
perado began heartily to curse their sloth — for to no other 
cause was he enabled to attribute the delay, as he knew the 
house, the destined scene of the outrage, to be deserted by all 
for the night, except by the three helpless females. 

As night waned and morning began to dawn in the east, the 
chief grew seriously uneasy at the prolonged absence of his 


A PANIC IN THE OUTLAW’S DEN. 207 

agents — a circumstance that he could only account for upon 
the absurd hypothesis that those stupid brutes had suffered 
themselves to be overtaken by sleep in their ambuscade. 

While he was cursing their inefficiency, and regretting that 
he had not himself made one of the party, he wandered in his 
restlessness to another part of the woods, and the opposite side 
of the house. 

He had not been long here before his attention was arrested 
by the tramping of approaching horsemen. He withdrew into 
the shade of the thicket and listened while the travelers went 
by. 

The party proved to consist of Old Hurricane, Herbert 
Greyson and the Sheriff’s officers, on their way from the town 
to Hurricane Hall to take the captured burglars into custody. 
And Black Donald, by listening attentively, gathered enough 
from their conversation to know that his men had been 
discovered and captured by the heroism of Capitola. 

“That girl again!” muttered Black Donald, to himself. 
“ She is doomed to be my destruction, or I hers ! Our fates 
are evidently connected ! Poor Steve ! Poor Dick ! Poor 
Hal ! Little did I think that your devotion to your captain 
would carry you into the very jaws of death — pshaw ! hang it I 
Let boys and women whine ! I must act ! ” 

And with this resolution Black Donald dogged the path of 
the horsemen until he had reached that part of the woods 
skirting the road opposite the park gate. Here he hid himself 
in the bushes to watch events. Soon from his hiding place he saw 
the wagon approach, containing the three men, heavily ironed 
and escorted by a strong guard of county constables and plan- 
tation negroes, all well armed, and under the command of the 
Sheriff and Herbert Greyson. 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! They must dread an attempt on our part 
of rescue, or they never would think of putting such a formid- 
able guard over three wounded and handcuffed men ! ” laughed 
Black Donald to himself. 

“ Courage, my boys,” he muttered. “ Your chief will free 
you from prison or share your captivity ! I wish I could 
trumpet that into your ears at this moment, but prudence, 
' the better part of valor,’ forbids ! For the same words that 
would encourage you would warn your captors into greater 
vigilance.” And so saying Black Donald let the procession 
pass, and then made tracks for his retreat. 


208 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


It was broad daylight when he reached the Old Inn. The 
robbers, worn out with waiting and watching for the captain 
and his men with the fair prize, had thrown themselves down 
upon the kitchen floor, and now lay in every sort of awkward 
attitude, stretched out or doubled up in heavy sleep. The old 
beldame had disappeared — doubtless she had long since 
sought her night lair. 

Taking a poker from the comer of the fireplace, Black 
Donald went around among the sleeping robbers and stirred 
them up, with vigorous punches in the ribs and cries of : 

“ Wake up ! — dolts ! brutes ! blockheads ! Wake up ! You 
rest on a volcano about to break out ! You sleep over a mine 
about to be exploded! Wake up ! — sluggards that you are ! 
Your town is taken ! Your castle is stormed ! The enemy is 
at your throats with drawn swords ! Ah, brutes, will you wake, 
then, or shall I have to lay it on harder? ” 

“ What the demon? ” 

“ How now? ” 

“ What’s this? ” were some of the ejaculations of the men 
as they slowly and sulkily roused themselves from their heavy 
slumber. 

“ The house is on fire ! The ship’s sinking ! The cars 
have run off the track ! The boiler’s burst, and the devil’s to 
pay ! ” cried Black Donald, accompanying his words with 
vigorous punches of the poker into the ribs of the recumbent 
men. 

“ What the foul fiend ails you, captain ? Have you got the 
girl, and drunk too much liquor on your wedding night?” 
asked one of the men. 

“ No, Mac, I have not got the girl ! On the contrary, the 
girl blame her, has got three of my best men in custody ! In 
one word, Hal, Dick and Steve are safely lodged in the county 
jail ! ” 

“ What ? ” 

“ Perdition ! * 

“ My eye 1 ” 

“ Here’s a go ! ” were the simultaneous exclamations of the 
men as they sprang upon their feet. 

“ In the fiend’s name, captain, tell us all about it ! ” said 
Mac, anxiously. 

“ I have no time to talk much, nor you to tarry long ! It was 
all along of that blamed witch, Capitola ! ” said Black Donald, 


A PANIC IN THE OUTLAW’S DEN 209 

who then gave a rapid account of the adventure, and the 
manner in which Capitola entrapped and captured the burglars, 
together with the way in which he himself came by the infor- 
mation. 

“ I declare, one can’t help liking that girl ! I should ad- 
mire her even if she should put a rope about my neck 1 ” said 
Mac. 

“ She’s a brick 1 ” said another, with emphasis. 

“ She’s some pumpkins, now, I tell you ! ” assented a 
third. 

“ I am more than ever resolved to get her into my possession ! 
But in the mean time, lads, we must evacuate the Old Inn 1 It 
is getting too hot to hold us ! ” 

“ Aye, captain 1 ” 

“Aye, lads, listen ! We must talk fast and act promptly; 
the poor fellows up there in jail are game, I know ! They 
would not willingly peach, but they are badly wounded. It 
one of them should have to die, and be blessed with a psalm- 
singing parson to attend him, no knowing what he may be 
persuaded to confess I Therefore, let us quickly decide upon 
some new rendezvous that will be unsuspected, even by our 
poor caged birds ! If any of you have any place in your eye, 
speak ! ” 

“We would rather hear what you have to say, captain,” 
said Mac ; and all the rest assented. 

“ Well, then, you all know the Devil’s Punch Bowl ! ” 

“ Aye, do we, captain ! ” 

“Well, what you do not know — what nobody knows but 
myself is this — that about half-way down that awful chasm, in 
the side of the rock, is a hole, concealed by a clump of ever- 
greens ; that hole is the entrance to a cavern of enormous ex- 
tent ! Let that be our next rendezvous ! And now, avaunt ! 
Fly ! Scatter 1 and meet me in the cavern to-night, at the 
usual hour ! Listen — carry away all our arms, ammunition, 
disguises and provisions — so that no vestige of our presence 
may be left behind. As for dummy, if they can make her 
speak, the cutting out of her tongue was lost labor — vanish l ” 

“ But our pals in prison ! ” said Mac. 

“ They shall be my care. We must lie low for a few days, 
so as to put the authorities off their guard. Then if our pals 
recover from their wounds and have proved game against 
Church and State, I shall know what measures to take for 
i4 


210 THE HIDDEN HAND. 

their deliverance ! No more talk now — prepare for your flit- 
ting and fly!” 

The captain’s orders were obeyed, and within two hours from 
that time no vestige of the robbers’ presence remained in the 
deserted Old Inn. 

If any Sheriff’s officer had come there with a search-warrant, 
he would have found nothing suspicious ; he would have seen 
only a poor old dumb woman, busy at her spinning wheel ; 
and if he had questioned her would only have got smiles and 
shakes of the head for an answer, or the exhibitions of coarse 
country gloves and stockings of her own knitting, which she 
would, in dumb-show, beg him to purchase. 

Days and weeks passed and the three imprisoned burglars 
languished in jail, each in a separate cell. 

Bitterly each in his heart complained of the leader that had, 
apparently, deserted them in their direst need. And if neither 
betrayed him it was probably because they could not do so 
without deeply criminating themselves, and for no better 
motive. 

There is said to be “ honor among thieves.” It is, on the 
face of it, untrue ; there can be neither honor, confidence nor 
safety among men whose profession is crime. The burglars, 
therefore, had no confidence in their leader, and secretly and 
bitterly reproached him for his desertion of them. 

Meanwhile the annual camp meeting season approached. If 
was rumored that a camp meeting would be held in the 
wooded vale below Tip-Top, and soon this report was confirmed 
by announcements in all the county papers. And all who in- 
tended to take part in the religious festival or have a tent on 
the ground began to prepare provisions — cooking meat and 
poultry, baking bread, cakes, pies, etc. And preachers from 
all parts of the country were flocking in to the village to be on 
the spot for the commencement. 

Mrs. Condiment, though a member of another church, loved 
in her soul the religious excitement — “ the warming up,” as 
she called it, to be had at the camp meeting ! But never in 
the whole course of her life had she taken part in one, except 
so far as riding to the preaching in the morning and returning 
home in the evening. 

But Capitola, who was as usual in the interval between her 
adventures, bored half to death with the monotony of her life 
at Hurricane Hall — and praying not against but wishing 


A PANIC IN THE OUTLAW’S DEN. 211 

for — fire, floods or thieves, or anything to stir her stagnant 
blood, heard of the camp meeting, and expressed a wish to 
have a tent on the camp ground and remain there from the 
beginning to the end, to see all that was to be seen ; hear all 
that was to be heard ; feel all that was to be felt, and learn all 
that was to be known ! 

And as Capitola, ever since her victory over the burglars, 
had been the queen regnant of Hurricane Hall, she had only 
to express this wish to have it carried into immediate effect. 

Old Hurricane himself went up to Tip-Top and purchased 
the canvas and set two men to work under his own immediate 
direction to make the tent. 

And as Major Warfield’s campaigning experience was very 
valuable here, it turned out that the Hurricane Hall tent was 
the largest and best on the camp ground. As soon as it was 
set up under the shade of a grove of oak trees a wagon from 
Hurricane Hall conveyed to the spot the simple and necessary 
furniture, cooking materials and provisions. And the same 
morning the family carriage, driven by Wool, brought out 
Major Warfield, Mrs. Condiment, Capitola and her little maid 
Patty. 

The large tent was divided into two compartments — one for 
Major Warfield and his man Wool — the other for Mrs. Condi- 
ment, Capitola and Patty. 

As the family party stepped out of the carriage, the novelty, 
freshness and beauty of the scene called forth a simultaneous 
burst of admiration. The little snow-white tents were dotted 
here and there through the woods, in beautiful contrast with 
the greenness of the foliage, groups of well-dressed and cheerful- 
looking men, women and children were walking about ; over 
all smiled a morning sky of cloudless splendor. The preachings 
and the prayer meetings had not yet commenced. Indeed, 
many of the brethren were hard at work in an extensive 
clearing, setting up a rude pulpit, and arranging rough benches 
to accommodate the women and children of the camp con- 
gregation. 

Our party went into their tent, delighted with the novelty of 
the whole thing, though Old Hurricane declared that it was 
nothing new to his experience, but reminded him strongly of 
his campaigning days. 

Wool assented, saying that the only difference was, there 
were no ladies in the old military camp. 


212 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


I have neither time nor space to give a full account of this 
camp meeting. The services commenced the same evening. 
There were preachers of more or less fervor, of piety and 
eloquence of utterance. Old Christians had their “ first love ” 
revived; young ones found their zeal kindled, and sinners 
were awakened to a sense of their sin and danger. Every 
Christian there said the season had been a good one ! 

In the height of the religious enthusiasm there appeared a 
new preacher in the field. He seemed a man considerably 
past middle age and broken down with sickness or sorrow. 
His figure was tall, thin and stooping ; his hair white as snow, 
his face pale and emaciated ; his movements slow and feeble, 
and his voice low and unsteady ! He wore a solemn suit of 
black, that made his thin form seem of skeleton proportions ; 
a snow-white neck-cloth, and a pair of great round iron-rimmed 
spectacles, that added nothing to his good looks. 

Yet this old, sickly and feeble man seemed one of fervent 
piety and of burning eloquence. Every one sought his society ; 
and when it was known that Father Gray was to hold forth, 
the whole camp congregation turned out to hear him. 

It must not be supposed that in the midst of this great 
revival those poor “ sinners above all sinners,” the burglars 
imprisoned in the neighboring town, were forgotten ! no, they 
were remembered, prayed for, visited and exhorted. And no 
one took more interest in the fate of these men than good 
Mrs. Condiment, who, having seen them all on that great night 
at Hurricane Hall, and having with her own kind hands 
plastered their heads and given them possets, could not drive 
out of her heart a certain compassion for their miseries. 

No one, either, admired Father Gray more than did the little 
old housekeeper of Hurricane Hall, and as her table and her 
accommodations were the best on the camp ground, she often 
invited and pressed good Father Gray to rest and refresh him- 
self in her tent. And the old man, though a severe ascetic, 
yielded to her repeated solicitations, until at length he seemed 
to live there altogether. 

One day Mrs. Condiment, being seriously exercised upon 
the subject of the imprisoned men, said to Father Gray, who 
was reposing himself in the tent : 

“ Father Gray, I wished to speak to you, sir, upon the 
subject of those poor wretched men who are to be tried 
for their lives at the next term of the Criminal Court. Our 


A PANIC IN THE OUTLAW’S DEN. 212 

ministers have all been to see them, and talked to them* 
but not one of the number can make the least impression 01 
them, or bring them to any sense of their avvful condition ! M 

“ Ah, that is dreadful ! ” sighed the aged man. 

" Yes, dreadful, Father Gray ! Now I thought if you would 
only visit them you could surely bring them to reason ! ” 

“ My dear friend, I would willingly do so, but I mus* 
confess to you a weakness — a great weakness of the flesh — 1 
have a natural shrinking from men of blood ! I know it is 
sinful, but indeed I cannot overcome it.” 

“ But, my dear Father Gray, a man of your experience 
knows full well that if you cannot overcome that feeling you 
should act in direct opposition to it ! And, I assure you, 
there is no danger ! Why, even I should not be at all afraid 
of a robber when he is double-ironed and locked up in a cell, 
and I should enter guarded by a pair of turnkeys ! ” 

“ I know it, my dear lady, I know it, and I feel that I 
ought to overcome this weakness or do my duty in its de- 
spite.” 

“ Yes, and if you would consent to go, Father Gray, I would 
not mind going with you myself, if that would encourage you 
any ! ” 

“ Of course it would, my dear friend ; and if you will go 
with me, and if the brethren think that I could do any good I 
will certainly endeavor to conquer my repugnance and visit 
these imprisoned men.” 

It was arranged that Father Gray, accompanied by Mrs. 
Condiment, should go to the jail upon the following morning ; 
and, accordingly, they set out immediately after breakfast. A 
short ride up the mountain brought them to Tip-Top, in the 
center of which stood the jail. It was a simple structure of 
gray stone, containing within its own walls the apartments 
occupied by the warden. To these Mrs. Condiment, who was 
the leader in the whole matter, first presented herself, in- 
troducing Father Gray as one of the preachers of the camp 
meeting, a very pious man, and very effective in his manner cf 
dealing with hardened offenders. 

“ I have heard of the Rev. Mr. Gray and his powerful 
exhortations,” said the warden, with a low bow ; “ and I hope 
he may be able to make some impression on these obdurate 
men and induce them, if possible, to * make a clean breast of 
it/ and give up the retreat of their band. Each of them has 


214 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


been offered a free pardon on condition of turning State’* 
evidence and each has refused.” 

“ Indeed ! have they done so, case-hardened creatures ? ” 
mildly inquired Father Gray. 

“ Aye, have they ; but you, dear sir, may be able to 
persuade them to do so.” 

“ I shall endeavor ! I shall endeavor ! ” said the mild old 
man. 

The warden then requested the visitors to follow him and 
led the way up-stairs to the cells. 

“ 1 understand that the criminals are confined separately? ” 
said Mr. Gray to the warden. 

“ No, sir ; they were so confined at first, for better security, 
but as they have been very quiet, and as since those rowdies 
that disturbed the camp meeting have been sent to prison and 
filled up our cells, we have had to put those three robbers into 
one cell.” 

“ I’m afraid I — ” began the minister, hesitating. 

“ Father Gray is nervous, good Mr. Jailor ; I hope there’s 
no danger from these dreadful men — all of them together — 
for I promised Father Gray that he should be safe, myself,” 
said Mrs. Condiment. 

“ Oh, ma’am, undoubtedly; they are double-ironed,” said 
the warden, as he unlocked a door and admitted the visitors, 
into rather a darkish cell, in which were the three prisoners. 

Steve the mulatto was stretched upon the floor in a deep 
sleep. 

Hal was sitting on the side of the cot, twiddling his 
fingers. 

Dick sat crouched up in a corner, with his head against 
the wall. 

“ Peace be with you, my poor souls,” said the mild old 
man, as he entered the cell. 

“ You go to the demon ! ” said Dick, with a hideous scowl. 

“ Nay, my poor man, I came in the hope of saving you 
from that enemy of souls 1 ” 

“ Here’s another ! There’s three comes reg’lar ! Here’s 
the fourth ! Go it, old fellow ! We’re gettin’ used to it ! It’s 
gettin’ to be entertainin’ ! It’s the only diversion we have in 
this blamed hole,” said Hal. 

“ Nay, friend, if you use profane language, I cannot stay to 
hear it.” said the old man. 


A PANIC IN THE OUTLAW’S DEN. 21 $ 

“ Yaw-aw-aw-ow ! ” yawned Steve, half rising and stretching 
himself. “ What’s the row? I was just dreaming our captain 
had come to deliver us — yow-aw-aw-ooh ! It’s only another 
parson 1 ” and with that Steve turned himself over and settled 
to sleep. 

“ My dear Mr. Jailer, do you think that these men are safe 
— for if you do, I think we had better leave excellent Mb 
G ray to talk to them alone — he can do them so much more 
good if he has them all to himself,” said Mrs. Condiment, who 
was, in spite of all her previous boasting, beginning to quail 
and tremble under the hideous glare of Demon Dick’s eyes. 

" N-no ! n-no ! n-no !” faltered the preacher, nervously 
taking hold of the coat of the warden. 

" You go along out of this the whole of you ! I’m not a. 
wild beast in a cage to be stared at ! ” growled Demon Dick 
with a baleful glare that sent Mrs. Condiment and the preacher, 
shuddering to the cell door. 

" Mr. Gray, I do assure you, sir, there is no danger ! The 
men are double-ironed, and, malignant as they may be, they 
can do you no harm. And if you would stay and talk to them 
you might persuade them to confession and do the community 
much service,” said the warden. 

“ I — I — I’m no coward, but — but — but — ” faltered the old 
man, tremblingly approaching the prisoners. 

“ I understand you, sir. You are in bad health, which 
makes you nervous.” 

“ Yes — yes. Heaven forgive me, but if you, Mr. Jailer, and 
the good lady here will keep within call, in case of accidents, 
I don’t mind if I do remain and exhort these men, for a short 
time,” said the old man. 

“ Of course we will. Come, Mrs. Condiment, mum ! There’s 
a good bench in the lobby and I’ll send for my old woman and 
we three can have a good talk while the worthy Mr. Gray is 
speaking to the prisoners,” said the warden, conducting the 
housekeeper from the cell. 

As soon as they had gone the old man went to the door and 
peeped after them, and having seen that they went to the 
extremity of the lobby to a seat under an open window, he 
turned back to the cell, and, going up to Hal, said in a low, 
voice : 

“ Now, then, is it possible that you do not know me ? ” 

Hal stopped twiddling his fingers and looked up at the 


216 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


tall, thin, stooping figure, the gray hair, the white eyebrows 
and the pale face, and said gruffly : 

“ No ! May the demon fly away with me if I ever saw you 
before ! ” 

“ Nor you, Dick? ” inquired the old man, in a mild voice, 
turning to the one addressed. 

“ No, burn you, nor want to see you now ! ” 

“ Steve ! Steve ! said the old man, in a pitiful voice, waking 
the sleeper. “ Don’t you know me, either? ” 

“ Don’t bother me,” said that worthy, giving himself 
another turn and another settle to sleep. 

“ Dolts ! blockheads ! brutes ! Do you know me now ? ” 
growled the visitor, changing his voice. 

“ Our captain ! ” 

“ Our captain ! ” 

“ Our captain ! ” they simultaneously cried. 

“ Hush ! sink your souls ! Do you want to bring the 
warden upon us?” growled Black Donald, for it was un- 
questionably him in a new metamorphosis. 

“ Then all I have to say, captain, is that you have left us 
here a blamed long time ! ” 

“ And exposed to sore temptation to peach on me ! 
Couldn’t help it, lads! Couldn’t help it ! I waited until I 
could do something to the purpose ! ” 

“ Now, may Satan roast me alive if I know what you have 
done to turn yourself into an old man ! Burn my soul, if 
I should know you now, captain, if it wa’n’t for your voice,” 
grumbled Steve. 

“ Listen, then, you ungrateful, suspicious wretches ! I did 
for you what no captain ever did for his men before J 
I had exhausted all manner of disguises, so that the authorities 
would almost have looked for me In an old woman’s gown ! 
See, then, what I did ! I put myself on a month’s regimen 
of vegetable diet, and kept myself in a cavern until I grew as 
pale and thin as a hermit ! Then I shaved off my hair, 
beard, mustaches and eyebrows ! Yes, blame you, I sacrificed 
all my beauty to your interests ! Fate helps those who help 
themselves ! The camp meeting gathering together hosts of 
people and preachers gave me the opportunity of appearing 
without exciting inquiry. I put on a gray wig, a black suit, 
assumed a feeble voice, stooping gait and a devout manner, 
and — became a popular preacher at the camp meeting. 


A PANIC IN THE OUTLAW’S DEN. 217 

“ Captain, you’re a brick ! You are indeed ! I do not 
flatter you ! ” said Hal. It was a sentiment in which all 
agreed. 

“ I had no need of further machination ! ” continued the 
captain ; “ they actually gave me the game ! I was urged to 
visit you here — forced to remain alone and talk with you ! ” 
laughed Black Donald. 

“ And now, captain, my jewel, my treasure, my sweetheart 
— that I love with * a love passing the love of woman ’ — how 
is your reverence going to get us out? ” 

“ Listen ! ” said the captain, diving into his pockets, “ you 
must get yourselves out ! This prison is by no means strongly 
fastened or well guarded ! Here are files to file off your 
fetters ! Here are tools to pick the locks, and here are three 
loaded revolvers to use against any of the turnkeys who might 
discover and attempt to stop you ! To-night, however, is the 
last of the camp meeting, and the two turnkeys are among 
my hearers ! 1 shall keep them all night ! Now you know what 

to do ! I must leave you ! Dick, try to make an assault on 
me that I may scream, but first conceal your tools and arms ! ” 

Hal hid the instruments and Dick, with an awful roar, sprang 
at the visitor, who ran to the grating crying : 

“ Help— help ! ” 

The warden came hurrying to the spot. 

“ Take ’im out o’ this, then ! ” muttered Dick, sulkily get' 
ting back into his corner. 

“ Oh, what a wretch ! ” said Mrs. Condiment. 

“ I shall be glad when he’s once hanged ! ” said the jailer. 

“ I — I — fear that I can do them but little good, and — and 
I would rather not come again, being sickly and nervous, ” 
faltered Father Gray. 

“No, my dear good sir! I for one shall not ask you to 
risk your precious health for such a set of wretches ! They 
are Satan’s own ! You shall come home to our tent and lie 
down to rest, and I will make you an egg-caudle that will set 
you up again,” said Mrs. Condiment, tenderly, as the whole 
party left the cell. 

That day the outrageous conduct of the imprisoned burglars 
was the subject of conversation, even dividing the interest of 
the religious excitement. 

But the next morning the whole community was thrown into 
a state of consternation by the discovery that the burglars 


218 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


had broken jail and fled, and that the notorious outlaw Black 
Donald had been in their very midst, disguised as an elderly 
Seld preacher. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE VICTORY OVER DEATK. 

“ Glory to God ! to God ! ” he saith, 

“ Knowledge by suffering entereth, 

And life is perfected in death/’ 

— E. B. Browning. 

One morning, in the gladness of his heart, Doctor Day 
mounted his horse and rode down to Staunton, gayly refusing 
to impart the object of his ride to any one, and bidding 
Traverse stay with the women until he should return. 

As soon as the doctor was gone, Traverse went into the 
library to arrange his patron’s books and papers. 

Mrs. Rocke and Clara hurried away to attend to some 
little mystery of their own invention for the surprise and de- 
light of the doctor and Traverse. For the more secret ac- 
complishment of their purpose, they had dismissed all attend- 
ance, and were at work alone in Mrs. Rocke’s room. And 
here Clara’s sweet, frank and humble disposition was again 
manifest, for when Marah would arise from her seat to get 
anything, Clara would forestall her purpose and say : 

“ Tell me — tell me to get what you want — just as if I were 
your child, and you will make me feel so well — do, now ! ” 

“ You are very good, dear Miss Clara, but — I would rather 
not presume to ask you to wait on me,” said Marah, gravely. 

“ Presume ! What a word from you to me ! Please don’t 
use it ever again, nor call me Miss Clara. Call me ‘ Clara ’ or 
* child ’ — do, mamma,” said the doctor’s daughter, then sud- 
denly pausing, she blushed and was silent. 

Marah gently took her hand and drew her into a warm 
embrace. 

It was while the friends were conversing so kindly in Marah’s 
room, and while Traverse was still engaged in arranging the 
doctor’s books and papers that one of the men-servants rapped 
at the library door, and without waiting permission to come in, 


THE VICTORY OVER DEATH. 


219 

entered the room with every mark of terror in his look and 
manner. 

“What is the matter?” inquired Traverse, anxiously 
rising. 

“ Oh, Mr. Traverse, sir, the doctor’s horse has just rushed 
home to the stables all in foam, without his rider ! ” 

“ Good heaven ! ” exclaimed Traverse, starting up and 
seizing his hat. “ Follow me immediately ! Hurry to the 
stables and saddle my horse and bring him up instantly ! 
We must follow on the road the doctor took to see what has hap- 
pened ! Stay ! On your life, breathe not a word of what 
has occurred ! I would not have Miss Day alarmed for the 
world ! ” he concluded, hastening down-stairs attended by the 
servant. 

In five minutes from the time he left the library Traverse 
was in the saddle, galloping toward Staunton, and looking at- 
tentively along the road as he went. Alas ! he had not gone 
far, when, in descending the wooded hill, he saw lying doubled 
up helplessly on the right side of the path, the body of the 
good doctor ! 

With an exclamation between a groan and a cry of anguish, 
Traverse threw himself from his saddle and kneeled beside 
the fallen figure, gazing in an agony of anxiety upon the closed 
eyes, pale features and contracted form and crying : 

“ Oh, heaven have mercy ! Doctor Day, oh, Doctor Day ! 
Can you speak to me ? ” 

The white and quivering eyelids opened and the faltering 
tongue spoke : 

“ Traverse — get me home — that I may see — Clara before I 
die ! ” 

“ Oh, must this be so ! Must this be so ! Oh, that I could 
die for you, my friend ! My dear, dear friend ! ” cried 
Traverse, wringing his hands in such anguish as he had never 
known before. 

Then feeling the need of self-control and the absolute neces- 
sity of removing the sufferer, Traverse repressed the swelling 
flood of sorrow in his bosom and cast about for the means of 
conveying the doctor to his house. He dreaded to leave him 
for an instant, and yet it was necessary to do so, as the 
servant whom he had ordered to follow him had not yet come 
up. 

While he was bathing the doctor’s face with water from a 


220 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


little stream beside the path, John, the groom, came riding 
along, and seeing his fallen master, with an exclamation of 
horror, sprang from his saddle and ran to the spot. 

“John,” said Traverse, in a heart-broken tone, “ mount 
again and ride for your life to the house ! Have — a cart — yes 
— that will be the easiest conveyance — have a cart got ready 
instantly with a feather bed placed in it, and the gentlest horse 
harnessed to it, and drive it here to the roadside at the head 
of this path ! Hasten for your life ! Say not a word of what 
has happened lest it should terrify the ladies ! Quick ! 
quick ! on your life ! ” 

Again, as the man was hurrying away, the doctor spoke, 
faintly murmuring : 

“ For heaven’s sake, do not let poor Clara be shocked ! ” 

“ No — no — she shall not be ! I warned him, dear friend 1 
How do you feel? Can you tell where you are hurt? ” 

The doctor feebly moved one hand to his chest and whis- 
pered : 

“ There, and in my back. ” 

Traverse, controlling his own great mental agony, did all 
that he could to soothe and alleviate the sufferings of the 
doctor, until the arrival of the cart, that stopped on the road 
at the head of the little bridle path, where the accident hap- 
pened* Then John jumped from the driver’s seat and came 
to the spot, where he tenderly assisted the young man in 
raising the doctor and conveying him to the cart and laying 
him upon the bed. Notwithstanding all their tender care 
in lifting and carrying him, it was but too evident that he 
suffered greatly in being moved. Slowly as they proceeded, 
at every jolt of the cart, his corrugated brows and blanched 
and quivering lips told how much agony he silently endured. 

Thus at last they reached home. He was carefully raised 
by the bed and borne into the house and up-stairs to his own 
chamber, where, being undressed, he was laid upon his own 
easy couch. Traverse sent off for other medical aid, ad- 
ministered a restorative and proceeded to examine his injuries. 

“ It is useless, dear boy — useless all ! You have medical 
knowledge enough to be as sure of that as I am. Cover me 
up and let me compose myself before seeing Clara, and while 
I do so, go you and break this news gently to the poor child ! ” 
said the doctor, who, being under the influence of the re- 
storative, spoke more steadily than at any time since the fall 


THE VICTORY OVER DEATH. 


221 


Traverse, almost broken-hearted, obeyed his benefactor and 
went to seek his betrothed, praying the Lord to teach him how 
to tell her this dreadful calamity and to support her under its 
crushing weight. 

As he went slowly, wringing his hands, he suddenly met 
Clara with her dress in disorder and her hair flying, just as she 
had run from her room while dressing for dinner. Hurrying 
toward him, she exclaimed : 

“ Traverse, what has happened? For the good Lord’s sake, 
tell me quickly — the house is all in confusion. Every one 
is pale with affright ! No one will answer me ! Your mother 
just now ran past me out of the store room, with her face as 
white as death ! Oh, what does it all mean? ” 

“ Clara, love, come and sit down ; you are almost fainting 
— ( oh, heaven, support her ! ) ” murmured Traverse, as he led 
the poor girl to the hall sofa. 

“ Tell me ! Tell me ! ” she said. 

“ Clara — your father ” 

“ My father ! No, no — no — do not say any harm has hap- 
pened to my father — do not, Traverse ! — do not ! ” 

“ Oh, Clara, try to be firm, dear one ! ” 

“My father! Oh, my father! — he is dead!” shrieked 
Clara, starting up wildly to run, she knew not whither. 

Traverse sprang up and caught her arm and drawing her 
gently back to her seat, said : 

“ No, dear Clara — no, not so bad as that — he is living ! ” 
“ Oh, thank heaven for so much ! What is it, then, Traverse ? 
He is ill ! Oh, let me go to him ! ” 

“ Stay, dear Clara — compose yourself first ! You would not 
go and disturb him with this frightened and distressed face of 
yours — let me get you a glass of water, ” said Traverse, starting 
up and bringing the needed sedative from an adjoining room. 

“ There, Clara, drink that and offer a silent prayer to heaven 
to give you self-control. ” 

“ I will — oh, I must for his sake ! But tell me, Traverse, 
is it — is it as I fear — as he expected — apoplexy? ” 

“ No, dear love — no. He rode out this morning and his 
horse got frightened by the van of a circus company that was 

going into the town, and ” 

« And ran away with him and threw him ! Oh, heaven ! 
Oh, my dear father ! ” exclaimed Clara, once more clasping 
her hands wildly, and starting up. 


222 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


Again Traverse promptly but gently detained her, saying : 
“ You promised me to be calm, dear Clara, and you must 
be so, before I can suffer you to see your father. ” 

Clara sank into her seat and covered her face with her 
hands, murmuring, in a broken voice : 

“How can I be? Oh, how can I be, when my heart is 
wild with grief and fright? Traverse ! Was he — was he — oh, 
I dread to ask you ! Oh, was he much hurt? ” 

“ Clara, love, his injuries are internal ! Neither he nor I yet 
know their full extent. I have sent off for two old and ex- 
perienced practitioners from Staunton. I expect them every 
moment. In the mean time, I have done all that is possible 
for his relief. ” 

“ Traverse, ” said Clara, very calmly, controlling herself by 
an almost superhuman effort, “ Traverse, I will be composed ; 
you shall see that I will ; take me to my dear father’s bedside ; 
it is there that I ought to be ! ” 

“ That is my dear, brave, dutiful girl ! Come, Clara ! ” 
replied the young man, taking her hand and leading her up to 
the bedchamber of the doctor. They met Mrs. Rocke at 
the door, who tearfully signed them to go in as she left it. 

When they entered and approached the bedside, Traverse 
saw that the suffering but heroic father must have made some 
superlative effort before he could have reduced his haggard 
face and writhing form to its present state of placid repose, to 
meet his daughter’s eyes and spare her feelings. 

She, on her part, was no less firm. Kneeling beside his 
couch, she took his hand and met his eye composedly as she 
asked : 

“ Dear father, how do you feel now? ” 

“ Not just so easy, love, as if I had laid me down here for 
an afternoon’s nap, yet in no more pain than I can very well 
bear. ” 

“ Dear father, what can I do for you? ” 

“ You may bathe my forehead and lips with cologne, my 
dear, ” said the doctor, not so much for the sake of the re- 
viving perfume, as because he knew it would comfort Clara to 
feel that she was doing something, however slight, for him. 
Traverse stood upon the opposite side of the bed fanning him. 
In a few moments Mrs. Rocke re-entered the room, an- 
nouncing that the two old physicians from Staunton, Doctor 
Dawson and Doctor Williams, had arrived. 


THE VICTORY OVER DEATH. 


223 

“ Show them up, Mrs. Rocke. Clara, love, retire while the 
physicians remain with me, ” said Doctor Day. 

Mrs. Rocke left the room to do his bidding. And Clara 
followed and sought the privacy of her own apartment to give 
way to the overwhelming grief which she could no longer resist. 

As soon as she was gone the doctor also yielded to the force 
of the suffering that he had been able to endure silently in 
her presence, and writhed and groaned with agony — that 
wrung the heart of Traverse to behold. 

Presently the two physicians entered the room and ap- 
proached the bed, with expressions of sincere grief at behold- 
ing their old friend in such a condition and a hope that they 
might speedily be able to relieve him. 

To all of which the doctor, repressing all exhibitions of 
pain and holding out his hand in a cheerful manner, replied : 

“ I am happy to see you in a friendly way, old friends ! I 
am willing also that you should try what you — what you can 
do for me — but I warn you that it will be useless ! A few 
hours or days of inflammation, fever and agony, then the ease 
of mortification, then dissolution ! ” 

“Tut — tut, ”said Doctor Williams, cheerfully. “We never 
permit a patient to pronounce a prognosis upon his own 
case ! ” 

“ Friend, my horse ran away, stumbled and fell upon me, and 
rolled over me in getting up. The viscera is crushed within 
me ; breathing is difficult ; speech painful ; motion agonizing ; 
but you may examine and satisfy yourselves, ” said Doctor 
Day, still speaking cheerfully, though with great suffering. 

His old friends proceeded gently to the examination, which 
resulted in their silently and perfectly coinciding fn opinion 
with the patient himself. 

Then, with Doctor Day and Traverse, they entered into a 
consultation and agreed upon the best palliatives that could 
be administered, and begging that if in any manner, profes- 
sionally or otherwise, they could serve their suffering friend, at 
any hour of the day or night, they might be summoned, they 
took leave. 

As soon as they had gone, Clara, who had given way to a 
flood of tears, and regained her composure, rapped for admit- 
tance. 

* Presently, dear daughter — presently, ” said the doctor, 
who then, beckoning Traverse to stoop low, said : 


224 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Do not let Clara sit up with me to-night. I foresee a 
night of great anguish which I may not be able to repress, 
and which I would not have her witness ! Promise you will 
keep her away. ” 

“I promise, ” faltered the almost broken-hearted youth. 
“You may admit her now,” said the doctor, composing his 
convulsed countenance as best he could, lest the sight of his 
sufferings should distress his daughter. ” 

Clara entered, and resumed her post at the side of the 
bed. 

Traverse left the room to prepare the palliatives for his 
patient. 

The afternoon waned. As evening approached the fever, 
inflammation and pain arose to such a degree that the doctor 
could no longer forbear betraying his excessive suffering, 
which was, besides, momentarily increasing, so he said to 
Clara : 

“ My child, you must now leave me and retire to bed. I 
must be watched by Traverse alone to-night. ” 

And Traverse, seeing her painful hesitation, between her 
extreme reluctance to leave him and her wish to obey him, 
approached and murmured : 

“ Dear Clara, it would distress him to have you stay ; he 
will be much better attended by me alone. ” 

Clara still hesitated ; and Traverse, beckoning his mother to 
come and speak to her, left her side. 

Mrs. Rocke approached her and said : “ It must be so, 

dear girl, for you know that there are some cases in which 
sick men should be watched by men only, and this is one of 
them. I myself shall sit up to-night in the next room, within 
call. ” 

“And may I not sit there beside you?” pleaded Clara. 

“ No, my dear love ; as you can do your father no good, he 
desires that you should go to bed and rest. Do not distress 
him by refusing. ” 

“ Oh, and am I to go to bed and sleep while my dear father 
lies here suffering? I cannot; oh, I cannot.” 

“ My dear, yes, you must ; and if you cannot sleep you can 
lie awake and pray for him. ” 

Here the doctor, whose agony was growing unendurable, 
called out : 

“ Go, Clara, go at once, my dear. ” 


r 


THE VICTORY OVER DEATH. 


225 


She went back to the bedside and pressed her lips to his 
forehead, and put her arms around him and prayed : 

“ Oh, my dear father, may the blessed Saviour take you in 
his pitying embrace and give you ease to-night. Your poor 
Clara will pray for you as she never prayed for herself. ” 

“ May the Lord bless you, my sweet child,” said the doctor, 
lifting one hand painfully and laying it in benediction on her 
fair and graceful head. 

Then she arose and left the room, saying to Mrs. Rocke as 
she went : 

“ Oh, Mrs Rocke, only last evening we were so happy — 
‘ But if we have received good things at the hand of God, why 
should we not receive evil? ’ ” 

“Yes, my child; but remember nothing is really evil that 
comes from His good hand,” said Mrs. Rocke, as she attended 
Clara to the door. 

His daughter had no sooner gone out of hearing than the 
doctor gave way to his irrepressible groans. 

At a sign from Traverse Mrs. Rocke went and took up her 
position in the adjoining room. 

Then Traverse subdued the light in the sick chamber, 
arranged the pillows of the couch, administered a sedative 
and took up his post beside the bed, where he continued to 
watch and nurse the patient with unwearied devotion. 

At the dawn of day, when Clara rapped at the door, he 
was in no condition to be seen by his daughter. 

Clara was put off with some plausible excuse. 

After breakfast his friends the physicians called and spent 
several hours in his room. Clara was told that she must not 
come in while they were there. And so, by one means and an- 
other, the poor girl was spared from witnessing those dreadful 
agonies which, had she seen them, must have so bitterly in- 
creased her distress. 

In the afternoon, during a temporary mitigation of pain, 
Clara was admitted to see her father. But in the evening, as 
his sufferings augmented, she was again, upon the same ex- 
cuse that had been used the preceding evening, dismissed to 
her chamber. 

Then passed another night of suffering, during which Tra- 
verse never left him for an instant. 

Toward morning the fever and pain abated, and he fell into 
a sweet sleep. About sunrise he awoke quite free from suffer- 


226 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


ing. Alas ! it was the ease that he had predicted — the ease 
preceding dissolution. 

“ It is gone forever now, Traverse, my boy ; thank God my 
last hours will be sufficiently free from pain to enable me to 
set my house in order. Before calling Clara in I would talk 
to you alone. You will remain here until all is over? ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir, yes ; I would do anything on earth — anything 
for you ! I would lay down my life this hour if I could do so 
to save you from this bed of death.” 

“ Nay, do not talk so ; your young life belongs to others — 
to Clara and your mother. ‘ God doeth all things well.* 
Better the ripened ear should fall than the budding germ. 
I do not feel it hard to die, dear Traverse. Though the. 
journey has been very pleasant the goal is not unwelcome. 
Earth has been very sweet to me, but heaven is sweeter.” 

“ Oh, but we love you so ! we love you so ! you have so 
much to live for ! ” exclaimed Traverse, with an irrepressible 
burst of grief. 

“ Poor boy, life is too hopeful before you to make you a 
comforter by a deathbed. Yes, Traverse, I have much to live 
for but more to die for. Yet not voluntarily would I have 
left you, though I know that I leave you in the hands of the 
Lord, and with every blessing and promise of His bountiful 
providence. Your love will console my child. My confidence 
in you makes me easy in committing her to your charge.” 

“ Oh, Doctor Day, may the Lord so deal with my soul 
eternally as I shall discharge this trust,” said Traverse, earnestly. 

“ I know that you will be true ; I wish you to remain here 
with Clara and your mother for a few weeks, until the child’s 
first violence of grief shall be over. Then you had best pur- 
sue the plan we laid out. Leave your good mother here to 
take care of Clara, and you go to the West, get into practice 
there, and, at the end of a few years, return and marry Clara. 
Traverse, there is one promise I would have of you.” 

“ I give it before it is named, dear friend,” said Traverse, 
fervently. 

“ My child is but seventeen ; she is so gentle that her will is 
subject to that of all she loves, especially to yours. She will 
do anything in conscience that you ask her to do. Traverse, 
I wish you to promise me that you will not press her to mar- 
riage until she shall be at least twenty years old. And ” 

“ Oh, sir, I promise ! Oh, believe me, my affection for 


THE VICTORY OVER DEATH. 


227 


Clara is so pure and so constant, as well as so confiding in 
her faith and so solicitous for her good, that, with the assur- 
ance of her love and the privilege of visiting her and writing 
to her, I could wait many years if needful.” 

“ I believe you, my dear boy. And the very promise I 
have asked of you is as much for your sake as for hers. No 
girl can marry before she is twenty without serious risk of life, 
and almost certain loss of health and beauty ; that so many 
do so is one reason why there are such numbers of sickly and 
faded young wives. If Clara’s constitution should be broken 
down by prematurely assuming the cares and burdens of 
matrimony, you would be as unfortunate in having a sickly 
wife as she would be in losing her health.” 

“ Oh, sir, I promise you that, no matter how much I may 
wish to do so, I will not be tempted to make a wife of Clara 
until she has attained the age you have prescribed. But at 
the same time I must assure you that such is my love for her 
that, if accident should now make her an invalid for life, she 
would be as dear — as dear — yes, much dearer to me, if pos- 
sible, on that very account ; and if I could not marry her for 
a wife, I should marry her only for the dear privilege of wait- 
ing on her night and day. Oh, believe this of me, and leave 
your dear daughter with an easy mind to my faithful care,” 
said Traverse, with a boyish blush suffusing his cheeks and 
tears filling his eyes. 

* l I do, Traverse, I do ; and now to other things.” 

“ Are you not talking too much, dear friend? ” 

“ No, no ; I must talk while I have time. I was about to 
say that long ago my will was made. Clara, you know, is the 
heiress of all I possess. You, as soon as you become her 
husband, will receive her fortune with her. I have made no 
reservation in her favor against you ; for he to whom I can en- 
trust the higher charge of my daughter’s person, happiness 
and honor I can also intrust her fortune.” 

“ Dear sir, I am glad for Clara’s sake that she has a for- 
tune ; as for me, I hope you will believe me that I would have 
gladly dispensed with it and worked for dear Clara all the days 
of my life.” 

“ I do believe it ; but this will was made, Traverse, three 
years ago, before any of us anticipated the present relations 
between you and my daughter, and while you were both still 
children. Therefore, I appointed my wife’s half-brother, 


228 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


Clara’s only male relative, Colonel Le Noir, as her guardian. 
It is true we have never been very intimate, for our paths in 
life widely diverged ; nor has my Clara seen him within her 
recollection ; for, since her mother’s death, which took place 
in her infancy, he has never been at our house. But he is a 
man of high reputation and excellent character. I have al- 
ready requested Doctor Williams to write for him, so that I 
expect he will be here in a very few days. When he comes, 
Traverse, you will tell him that it is my desire that my daugh- 
ter shall continue to reside in her present home, retaining 
Mrs. Rocke as her matronly companion. I have also re- 
quested Doctor Williams to tell him the same thing, so that 
in the mouths of two witnesses my words may be established.” 

Now, Traverse had never in his life before heard the name 
of Colonel Le Noir ; and, therefore, was in no position to warn 
the dying father who placed so much confidence in the high 
reputation of his brother-in-law that his trust was miserably 
misplaced ; that he was leaving his fair daughter and her large 
fortune to the tender mercies of an unscrupulous villain and a 
consummate hypocrite. So he merely promised to deliver 
the message with which he was charged by the dying father 
for his daughter’s guardian, and added that he had no doubt 
but Clara’s uncle would consider that message a sacred com- 
mand and obey it to the letter. 

As the sun was now well up, the doctor consented that Mrs. 
Rocke and his daughter should be admitted. 

Marah brought with her some wine-whey that her patient 
drank, and from which he received temporary strength. 

Clara was pale but calm ; one could see at a glance that the 
poor girl was prepared for the worst, and had nerved her 
gentle heart to bear it with patience. 

“ Come hither, my little Clara,” said the doctor, as soon as 
he had been revived by the whey. 

Clara came and kissed his brow and sat beside him with 
her hands clasped in his. 

“ My little girl, what did our Saviour die for? First to re- 
deem us, and also to teach us by His burial and resurrection 
that death is but a falling asleep in this world and an awaken- 
ing in the next. Clara, after this, when you think of your 
father, do not think of him as lying in the grave, for he will 
not be there in his vacated body, no more than he will be in 
the trunk with his cast-off clothes. As the coat is the body’s 


THE VICTORY OVER DEATH. 


239 


covering, so the body is the soul’s garment, and it is the soul 
that is the innermost and real man ; it is my soul that is me ; 
and that will not be in the earth, but in heaven ; therefore, 
do not think of me gloomily as lying in the grave, but cheer- 
fully as living in heaven — as living there with God and Christ 
and His saints, and with your mother, Clara, the dear wife of 
my youth, who has been waiting for me these many years. 
Think of me as being happy in that blessed society. Do not 
fancy that it is your duty to grieve, but, on the contrary, know 
that it is your duty to be as cheerful and happy as possible. 
Do you heed me, my daughter? ” 

" Oh, yes, yes, dear father ! ” said Clara, heroically repress- 
ing her grief. 

“ Seek for yourself, dear child, a nearer union with Christ 
and God. Seek it, Clara, until the spirit of God shall bear 
witness with your spirit that you are as a child of God ; so 
shall you, as you come to lie where I do now, be able to say 
of your life and death, as I say with truth of mine : The 
journey has been pleasant, but the goal is blessed.” 

The doctor pressed his daughter’s hand and dropped sud- 
denly into an easy sleep. 

Mrs. Rocke drew Clara away, and the room was very still. 

Sweet, beautiful and lovely as is the death-bed of a Chris- 
tian, we will not linger too long beside it. 

All day the good man’s bodily life ebbed gently away. He 
spoke at intervals, as he had strength given him, words of 
affection, comfort and counsel to those around him. 

Just as the setting sun was pouring his last rays into the 
chamber Doctor Day laid his hand upon his child’s head and 
blessed her. Then, closing his eyes, he murmured softly: 
“ ‘ Lord Jesus, into thy hands I resign my spirit : ’ ” and with 
that sweet, deep, intense smile that had been so lovely in life 
— now so much lovelier in death — his pure spirit winged its 
flight to the realms of eternal bliss. 


210 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE ORPHAN. 

«« Let me die, father ! I fear, I fear 
To fall in earth’s terrible strife ! ” 

« Not so, my child, for the crown must be w 
In the battle-field of Life.” 

— Life and Death. 

“He has gone to sleep again,” said Clara, with a sigh of 
relief. 

“ He has gone to heaven, my child,” said Marah Rocke, 
softly. 

The orphan started, gazed wildly on the face of the dead, 
turned ghastly pale and, with a low moan and suffocating sob, 
fell fainting into the motherly arms of Mrs. Rocke. 

Marah beckoned Traverse, who lifted the insensible girl 
tenderly in his arms and, preceded by his mother, bore her to 
her chamber and laid her upon the bed. 

Then Marah dismissed Traverse to attend to the duties 
owed to the remains of the beloved departed, while she herself 
stayed with Clara, using every means for her restoration. 

Clara opened her eyes at length, but in reviving to life 
also returned to grief. Dreadful to witness was the sorrow of 
the orphan girl. She had controlled her grief in the presence 
of her father and while he lingered in life, only to give way 
now to its overwhelming force. Marah remained with her, 
holding her in her arms, weeping with her, praying for her, 
doing all that the most tender mother could do to soothe, 
console and strengthen the bleeding young heart. 

The funeral of Doctor Day took place the third day from 
his decease, and was attended by all the gentry of the neigh- 
boring town and county in their own carriages, and by crowds 
who came on foot to pay the last tribute of respect to their 
beloved friend. 

He was interred in the family burial ground, situated on a 
wooded hill up behind the homestead, and at the head of his 
last resting place was afterwards erected a plain obelisk of 


THE ORPHAN. 


231 

white marble, with his name and the date of his birth and 
death and the following inscription : 

“ He is not here, but is risen.” 


“ When dear Clara comes to weep at her father's grave, 
these words will send her away comforted and with her faith 
renewed,” had been Traverse Rocke’s secret thought when 
giving directions for the inscription of this inspiring text. 

On the morning of the day succeeding the funeral, while 
Clara, exhausted by the violence of her grief, lay prostrate 
upon her chamber couch, Mrs. Rocke and Traverse sat con- 
versing in that once pleasant, now desolate, morning reading- 
room. 

“ You know, dear mother, that by the doctor’s desire, which 
should be considered sacred, Clara is still to live here, and you 
are to remain to take care of her. I shall defer my journey 
West until everything is settled to Clara’s satisfaction, and she 
has in some degree recovered her equanimity. I must also 
have an interview and a good understanding with her guardian, 
for whom I have a message.” 

“ Who is this guardian of whom I have heard you speak 
more than once, Traverse? ” asked Marah. 

“ Dear mother, will you believe me that I have forgotten 
the man’s name ; it is an uncommon name that I never heard 
before in my life, and, in the pressure of grief upon my mind, 
its exact identity escaped my memory; but that does not 
signify much, as he is expected hourly ; and when he announces 
himself, either by card or word of mouth, I shall know, for I 
shall recognize the name the moment I see it written or hear 
it spoken. Let me see, it was something like Des Moines, De 
Vaughn, De Saule, or something of that sort. At all events, 
I’m sure I shall know it again the instant I see or hear it. 
And now, dear mother, I must ride up to Staunton to see some 
of the doctor’s poor sick that he left in my charge for as long 
as I stay here. I shall be back by three o’clock. I need not 
ask you to take great care of that dear suffering girl up-stairs,” 
said Traverse, taking his hat and gloves for a ride. 

“ I shall go and stay with her as soon as she awakes,” an- 
swered Mrs. Rocke. 

And Traverse, satisfied, went his way. 

He had been gone perhaps an hour when the sound of a 


232 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


carriage was heard below in the front of the house, followed 
soon by a loud rapping at the hall door. 

“ It is dear Clara’s guardian,” said Marah Rocke, rising and 
listening. 

Soon a servant entered and placed a card in her hand, 
saying : 

“ The gentleman is waiting in the hall below, and asked to 
see the person that was in charge here, ma’am ; so I fotch the 
card to you.” 

“ You did right, John. Show the gentleman up here,” said 
Marah ; and as soon as the servant had gone she looked at the 
card, but failed to make it out. The name was engraved in 
Old English text, and in such a complete labyrinth, thicket 
and network of ornate flourishes that no one who was not 
familiar at once with the name and the style could possibly 
have distinguished it. 

“ I do not think my boy would know this name at sight,” 
was Marah’s thought as she twirled the card in her hand and 
stood waiting the entrance of the visitor, whose step was now 
heard coming up the stairs. Soon the door was thrown open 
and the stranger entered. 

Marah, habitually shy in the presence of strangers, dropped 
her eyes before she had fairly taken in the figure of a tall, 
handsome, dark-complexioned, distinguished-looking man, 
somewhat past middle age, and arrayed in a rich military 
cloak, and carrying in his hand a military cap. 

The servant who had admitted him had scarcely retired 
when Marah looked up and her eyes and those of the stranger 
met — and — 

“ Marah Rocke ! ! ! ” 

“ Colonel Le Noir ! ! ! ” 

Burst simultaneously from the lips of each. 

Le Noir first recovered himself, and, holding out both hands, 
advanced toward her with a smile as if to greet an old friend. 

But Marah, shrinking from him in horror, turned and tot- 
tered to the farthest window, where, leaning her head against 
the sash, she moaned : 

“ Oh, my heart : my heart ! Is this the wolf to whom my 
lamb must be committed?” 

As she moaned these words she was aware of a soft step at 
her side and a low voice murmuring : 

“ Marah Rocke, yes ! the same beautiful Marah that, as a 


THE ORPHAN. 


233 


girl of fifteen — twenty years ago — turned my head, led me by 
her fatal charms into the very jaws of death — the same lovely 
Marah with her beauty only ripened by time and exalted by 
sorrow ! ” 

With one surprised, indignant look, but without a word of 
reply, Mrs. Rocke turned and walked composedly toward the 
door with the intention of quitting the room. 

Colonel Le Noir saw and forestalled her purpose by spring- 
ing forward, turning the key and standing before the door. 

“ Forgive, me, Marah, but I must have a word with you 
before we part,” he said, in those soft, sweet, persuasive tones 
he knew so well how to assume. 

Marah remembered that she was an honorable matron and 
an honored mother ; that, as such, fears and tremors and self- 
distrust in the presence of a villain would not well become her ; 
so calling up all the gentle dignity latent in her nature, she 
resumed her seat and, signing to the visitor to follow her 
example, she said composedly : 

“ Speak on, Colonel Le Noir — remembering, if you please, 
to whom you speak.” 

“ I do remember, Marah ; remember but too well.” 

“ They call me Mrs. Rocke who converse with me, sir.” 

“ Marah, why this resentment ? Is it possible that you can 
still be angry? Have I remained true to my attachment all 
these years and sought you throughout the world to find this 
reception at last? ” 

“ Colonel Le Noir, if this is all you had to say, it was scar- 
cely worth while to have detained me,” said Mrs. Rocke 
calmly. 

“ But it is not all, my Marah ! Yes, I call you mine by 
virtue of the strongest attachment man ever felt for woman ! 
Marah Rocke, you are the only woman who ever inspired me 
with a feeling worthy to be called a passion ” 

“ Colonel Le Noir, how dare you blaspheme this house of 
mourning by such sinful words? You forget where you stand 
and to whom you speak.” 

“ I forget nothing, Marah Rocke ; nor do I violate this 
sanctuary of sorrow”— here he sank his voice below his usual 
low :ones — “ when I speak of the passion that maddened my 
youth and with^ ^ 1 my manhood — a passion whose intensity 
was its excuse for all extravagances and whose enduring con- 
stancy is its final, full justification ! ” 


234 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


Before he had finished this sentence Marah Rocke had 
calmly arisen and pulled the bell rope. 

“What mean you by that, Marah? ” he inquired. 

Before she replied a servant, in answer to the bell, came to 
the door and tried the latch, and, finding it locked, rapped. 

With a blush that mounted to his forehead and with a half- 
suppressed imprecation, Colonel Le Noir went and unlocked 
the door and admitted the man. 

“John,” said Mrs. Rocke, quietly, “show Colonel Le Noir 
to the apartment prepared for him and wait his orders.” 
And with a slight nod to the guest she went calmly from the 
room. 

Colonel Le Noir, unmindful of the presence of the servant, 
stood gazing in angry mortification after her. The flush on 
his brow had given way to the fearful pallor of rage or hate 
as he muttered inaudibly : 

“ Insolent beggar ! contradiction always confirms my half- 
formed resolutions. Years ago I swore to possess that woman, 
and I will do it, if it be only to keep my oath and humble her 
insolence. She is very handsome still ; she shall be my slave !” 

Then, perceiving the presence of John, he said : 

“ Lead the way to my room, sirrah, and then go and order 
my fellow to bring up my portmanteau.” 

John devoutly pulled his forelocks as he bowed low and then 
went on, followed by Colonel Le Noir. 

Marah Rocke meanwhile had gained the privacy of her own 
chamber, where all her firmness deserted her. 

Throwing herself into a chair, she clasped her hands and 
sat with blanched face and staring eyes, like a marble statue 
of despair. 

“Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do while this miscreant 
remains here? — this villain whose very presence desecrates the 
roof and dishonors me ? I would instantly leave the house but 
that I must not abandon poor Clara. 

“ I cannot claim the protection of Traverse, for I would not 
provoke him to wrath or run him into danger ; nor, indeed, 
would I even permit my son to dream such a thing possible as 
that his mother could receive insult ! 

“ Nor can I warn Clara of the unprincipled character of 
her guardian, for if she knew him as he is she would surely 
treat him in such a way as to get his enmity — his dangerous, 
fatal enmity ! — doubly fatal since her person and property are 


THE ORPHAN. 


235 

legally at his disposal. Oh, my dove ! my dove ! that you 
should be in the power of this vulture ! What shall I do, oh, 
heaven? ” 

Marah dropped on her knees and finished her soliloquy 
with prayer. Then, feeling composed and strengthened, she 
went to Clara’s room. 

She found the poor girl lying awake and quietly weeping. 

“ Your guardian has arrived, love,” she said, sitting down 
beside the bed and taking Clara’s hand. 

“ Oh, must I get up and dress to see a stranger ? ” sighed 
Clara, wearily. 

“ No, love ; you need not stir until it is time to dress for 
dinner ; it will answer quite well if you meet your guardian at 
table,” said Marah, who had particular reasons for wishing that 
Clara should first see Colonel Le Noir with other company, to 
have an opportunity of observing him well and possibly forming 
an estimate of his character (as a young girl of her fine instincts 
might well do) before she should be exposed in a tete-a-tete to 
those deceptive blandishments he knew so well how to bring 
into play. 

“ That is a respite. Oh, dear Mrs. Rocke, you don’t know 
how I dread to see any one ! ” 

“ My dear Clara, you must combat grief by prayer, which is 
the only thing that can overcome it,” said Marah. 

Mrs. Rocke remained with her young charge as long as she 
possibly could, and then she went down-stairs to oversee the 
preparation of the dinner. 

And it was at the dinner-table that Marah, with the quiet 
and gentle dignity for which she was distinguished, introduced 
the younger members of the family to the guest, in these words : 

“Your ward, Miss Day, Colonel Le Noir.” 

The colonel bowed deeply and raised the hand of Clara to 
his lips, murmuring some sweet, soft, silvery and deferentially 
inaudible words of condolence, sympathy and melancholy 
pleasure, from which Clara, with a gentle bend of her head, 
withdrew to take her seat. 

“ Colonel Le Noir, my son, Doctor Rocke,” said Marah, 
presenting Traverse. 

The colonel stared superciliously, bowed with ironical depth, 
said he was “ much honored,” and, turning his back on the 
young man, placed himself at the table. 

During the dinner he exerted himself to be agreeable to 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


236 

Miss Day and Mrs. Rocke, but Traverse he affected to treat 
with supercilious neglect or ironical deference. 

Our young physician had too much self-respect to permit 
himself to be in any degree affected by this rudeness. And 
Marah, on her part, was glad, so that it did not trouble Tra- 
verse, that Le Noir should behave in this manner, so that 
Clara should be enabled to form some correct idea of his dis- 
position. 

When dinner was over Clara excused herself and retired to 
her room, whither she was soon followed by Mrs. Rocke. 

"Well, my dear, how do you like your guardian ?” asked 
Marah, in a tone as indifferent as she could make it. 

" I do not like him at all ! ” exclaimed Clara, her gentle 
blue eyes flashing with indignation through her tears ; " I do 
not like him at all, the scornful, arrogant, supercilious — Oh ! 
I do not wish to use such strong language, or to grow angry 
when I am in such deep grief ; but my dear father could not 
have known this man, or he never would have chosen him for 
my guardian; do you think he would, Mrs. Rocke ? ” 

" My dear, your excellent father must have thought well of 
him, or he never would have intrusted him with so precious a 
charge. Whether your father’s confidence in this man will be 
justified as far as you are concerned, time will show. Mean- 
while, my love, as the guardian appointed by your father, you 
should treat him with respect ; but, so far as reposing any trust 
in him goes, consult your own instincts.” 

“ I shall ; and I thank heaven that I have not got to go and 
live with Colonel Le Noir ! ” said Clara, fervently. 

Mrs. Rocke sighed. She remembered that the arrangement 
that permitted Clara to live at her own home with her chosen 
friends was but a verbal one, not binding upon the guardian 
and executor unless he chose to consider it so. 

Their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a 
servant with a message from Colonel Le Noir, expressing a hope 
that Miss Day felt better from her afternoon’s repose, and de- 
siring the favor of her company in the library. 

Clara returned an answer pleading indisposition, and beg- 
ging upon that account to be excused. 

At tea, however, the whole family met again. As before, 
Colonel Le Noir exerted himself to please the ladies and 
treated the young physician with marked neglect. This con- 
duct offended Miss Day to such a degree that she, being a 


THE ORPHAN. 


237 


girl of truth in every thought, word and deed, could only ex- 
hibit toward the guest the most freezing politeness that was 
consistent with her position as hostess, and she longed for the 
time to come that should deliver their peaceful home and 
loving little circle from the unwelcome presence of this ar- 
rogant intruder. 

“ How can he imagine that I can be pleased with his de- 
ference and courtesy and elaborate compliments, when he per- 
mits himself to be so rude to Traverse ? I hope Traverse will 
tell him of our engagement, which will, perhaps, suggest to him 
the propriety of reforming his manners while he remains under 
a roof of which Traverse is destined to be master,” said Clara 
to herself, as she arose from the table and, with a cold bow, 
turned to retire from the room. 

“ And will not my fair ward give me a few hours of her com- 
pany this evening? ” inquired Colonel Le Noir in an insinu- 
ating voice, as he took and pressed the hand of the doctor’s 
orphan daughter. 

“ Excuse me, sir ; but, except at meal times, I have not 
left my room since ” — here her voice broke down ; she could 
not speak to him of her bereavement, or give way in his pres- 
ence to her holy sorrow. “ Besides, sir,” she added, “ Doctor 
Rocke, I know, has expressed to you his desire for an early 
interview.” 

“ My fair young friend, Doctor Rocke, as you style the young 
man, will please to be so condescending as to tarry the leisure 
of his most humble servant,” replied the colonel, with an ironical 
bow in the direction of Traverse. 

“ Perhaps, sir, when you know that Doctor Rocke is charged 
with the last uttered will of my dear father, and that it is of 
more importance than you are prepared to anticipate, you may 
be willing to favor us all by granting this 4 young man ’ an 
early audience,” said Clara. 

“ The last uttered will ! I had supposed that the will of my 
late brother-in-law was regularly drawn up and executed and 
in the hands of his confidential attorney at Staunton.” 

“ Yes, sir ; so it is ; but I refer to my father’s last dying 
wishes, his verbal directions entrusted to his confidential friend 
Doctor Rocke,” said Clara. 

“ Last verbal directions, entrusted to Doctor Rocke. 
Humph ! Plumph ! this would require corroborative evidence,” 
said the colonel. 


238 


THE HIDDEN HAND. 


“ Such corroborative evidence can be had, sir,” said Clara, 
coldly “ and as I know that Doctor Rocke has already re- 
quested an interview for the sake of an explanation of these 
subjects, I must also join my own request to his, and assure 
you that by giving him an early opportunity of coming to an 
understanding with you, you will greatly oblige me.” 

“ Then, undoubtedly, my sweet young friend, your wishes 
shall be commands — Eh ! you — sir ! Doctor — What’s-your- 
name ! meet me in the library at ten o’clock to-morrow morn- 
ing,” said Le Noir, insolently. 

“ I have engagements, sir, that will occupy me between the 
hours of ten and three ; before or after that period I am at 
your disposal,” said Traverse, coldly. 

“ Pardieu ! It seems to me that I am placed at yours ! ” re- 
plied the colonel, lifting his eyebrows ; “ but as I am so 
placed by the orders of my fair little tyrant here, so be it — at 
nine to-morrow I am your most obedient servant.” 

“At nine, then, sir, I shall attend you,” said Traverse, with 
a cold bow. 

Clara slightly curtsied and withdrew from the room, attended 
by Mrs. Rocke. 

Traverse, as the only representative of the host, remained for 
a short time with his uncourteous guest, who, totally regardless 
of his presence, threw himself into an armchair, lighted a 
cigar, took up a book and smoked and read. 

Whereupon Traverse, seeing this, withdrew to the library to 
employ himself with finishing the arranging and tying up of 
certain papers left to his charge by Doctor Day. 

The completion of this story and the further adventures 
of Capitola will be found related in the sequel to this work 
published under the title of CAPITOLA’S PERIL. 


THE END. 


Gcod Fiction Worth Reading. 


^ scries of romances containing several of the old favorites in the field 
of historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and diplomacy 
that excel in thrilling and absorbing interest. 


A COLONIAL/ PREE-LANCE. A story of American Colonial Times. By 
Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, i2tno. with four illustrations by J. Watson 
Davis. Price, $i.oa 

A book that appeals to Americans as a vivid picture of Revolutionary 
scenes. The story is a strong one, a thrilling one. It causes the true 
American to flush with excitement, to devour chapter after chapter, until 
the eyes smart, and it fairly smokes with patriotism. The love story is a» 
singularly charming idyl. 

THE TOWER OP LONDON. A Historical Romance of the Times of Lady 
Jane Grey and Mary Tudor. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth, i2mo. with 
four illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $ 1 . 00 . 

This romance of the “Tower of London” depicts the Tower as palace, 
prison and fortress, with many historical associations. The era is th» 
middle of the sixteenth century. 

The story is divided into two parts, one dealing with Lady Jane Grey, 
and the other with Mary Tudor as Queen, introducing other notable char- 
acters of the era. Throughout the story holds the interest of the reader 
in the midst of intrigue and conspiracy, extending considerably over a 
half a century. 

IN DEFIANCE OF THE KING. A Romance of the American Revolution. 
By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, i2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watsoa 
Davis. Price, $1.00. 

Mr. Hotchkiss has etched in burning words a story of Yankee bravery, 
and true love that thrills from beginning to end, with the spirit of tho 
Revolution. The heart beats quickly, and we feel ourselves taking a 
part in the exciting scenes described. Hie whole story is so absorbing 
that you will sit up far into the night to finish it. As a love romance 
it is charming. 

GARTHOWEN. A story of a Welsh Homestead. By Allen Raine. Cloth, 
i2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. 

"This is a little idyl of humble life and enduring love, laid bare before 
us, very real and pure, which in its telling shows us some strong points of 
"Welsh character— the pride, the hasty temper, the quick dying out of wrath. 

. . . We call this a well-written story, interesting alike through its 

romance and its glimpses into another life than ours. A delightful and 
clever picture of Welsh village life. The result is excellent.” — Detroit Free 
Press. 

MIFANWY. The story of a Welsh Singer. By Allan Raine. Cloth* 
i2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $ 1 . 00 . 

“This is a love story, simple, tender and pretty as one would care to 
read. The action throughout is brisk and pleasing; the characters, it is ap- 
parent at once, are as true to life as though the author had known them 
all personally. Simple in all its situations, the story is worked up in that 
touching and quaint strain which never grows wearisome, no matter how 
often the lights and shadows of love are introduced. It rings true, and 
does not tax the imagination.” — Boston Herald. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the pOt> 

Jfahers, A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52-58 Duane St., New York. 


Good Fiction Worth Reading. 


A series of romances containing several of the old favorites in the field 
of historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and diplomacy 
that excel in thrilling and absorbing interest. 


DARNLEY. A Romance of the times of Henry VIIL and Cardinal Wolsey. 
By G. P. R. James. Cloth, i2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. 
Price, $1.00. 

In point of publication, “Darnley” Is that work by Mr. James which 
follows “Richelieu,” and, if rumor can be credited, it was owing to the ad- 
vice and insistence of our own Wasnington Irving that we are indebted 
primarily for the story, the young author questioning whether he could 
properly paint the difference in the characters of the two great cardinals. 
And it is not surprising that James should have hesitated; he had been 
eminently successful in giving to the world the portrait of Richelieu as a 
man, and by attempting a similar task with Wolsey as the theme, waa 
much like tempting fortune. Irving insisted that “Darnley” came natur- 
ally in sequence, and this opinion being supported by Sir Walter Scott, 
the author set about the work. 

As a historical romance “Darnley” Is a book that can be taken up 
pleasurably again and again, for there is about it that subtle charm which 
those who are strangers to the works of G. P. R. James have claimed was 
only to be imparted by Dumas. 

If there was nothing more about the work to attract especial attention, 
the account of the meeting of the kings on the historic “field of the cloth of 
gold” would entitle the story to the most favorable consideration of every 
reader. 

There is really but little pure romance in this story, for the author ha® 
taken care to imagine love passages only between those whom history ha® 
credited with having entertained the tender passion one for another, an<& 
he succeeds in making such lovers as all the world must love. 

CAPTAIN BRAND, OP THE SCHOONER CENTIPEDE. By Lieut. 
Henry A. Wise, U.S. N. (Harry Gringo). Cloth, i2mo. with fow illustra- 
tions by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. 

The re-publication of this story will please those lovers of sea yarn® 
who delight in so much of the salty flavor of the ocean as can come through 
the medium of a printed page, for never has a story of the sea and those 
“who go down in ships” been written by one more familiar with the scene® 
depicted. 

The one book of this gifted author which is best remembered, and which 
will be read with pleasure for many years to come, is “Captain Brand,’* 
who, as the author states on his title page, was a “pirate of eminence in 
the West Indies.” As a sea story pure and simple, “Captain Brand” ha® 
never been excelled,, and as a story of piratical life, told without the usual 
embellishments of blood and thunder, it has no equal. 

NICK OP THE WOODS. A story of the Early Settlers of Kentucky. By 
Robert Montgomery Bird. Cloth, i2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson 
Davis. Price, $1.00. 

This most popular novel and thrilling story of early frontier life in 
Kentucky was originally published in the year 1837. The novel, long out of 
print, had in its day a phenomenal sale, for its realistic presentation of 
Indian and frontier life in the early days of settlement in the South, nar- 
rated in the tale with all the art of a practiced writer. A very charming 
love romance runs through the story. This new and tasteful edition of 
“Nick of the Woods” will be certain to make many new admirers for 
enchanting story from Dr. Bird’s clever and versatile pen. 


Tftf sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by th it 
publishers, A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23d Street, New York 


POOD FICTION WORTH READING 

A series of romances containing several of the old favor- 
ites in the field of historical fiction, replete with powerful 
romances of love and diplomacy that excel in thrilling and 
absorbing interest. 


THE LAST TRAIL. A story of early days in the Ohio 
Valley. By Zane Grey. Cloth, 12mo. Four page illustra- 
tions by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. 

“The Last Trail” is a story of the border. The scene is laid at Fort 
Henry, where Col. Ebenezer Zane with his family have built up a village 
despite the attacks of savages and renegades. The Colonel’s brother and 
Wetzel, known as Deathwind by the Indians, are the bordermen who devote 
their lives to the welfare of the white people. A splendid love story runs 
through the book. 

That Helen Sheppard, the heroine, should fall in love with such a 
brave, skilful scout as Jonathan Zane seems only reasonable after his years 
of association and defense of the people of the settlement from savages and 
Tenegades. 

If one has a liking for stories of the trail, where the white man matches 
brains against savage cunning, for tales of ambush and constant striving for 
the mastery, “The Last Trail” will be greatly to his liking. 


THE KNIGHTS OF THE HORSESHOE. A tradition- 
ary tale of the Cocked Hat Gentry in the Old Dominion. By 
Dr. Wm. A. Caruthers. Cloth, 12mo. Four page illustra- 
tions by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. 

Many will hail with delight the re-publication of this rare and justly 
famous story of early American colonial life and old-time Virginian 
hospitality. 

Much that is charmingly interesting will be found in this tale that so 
faithfully depicts early American colonial life, and also here is found all 
the details of the founding of the Tramontane Order, around which has 
ever been such a delicious flavor of romance. 

Early customs, much love making, plantation life, politics, intrigues, and 
finally that wonderful march across the mountains which resulted in the 
discovery and conquest of the fair Valley of Virginia. A rare book filled 
with a delicious flavor of romance. 

BY BERWEN BANKS. A Romance of Welsh Life. By 
Allen Raine. Cloth, 12mo. Four page illustrations by J. 
Watson Davis. Price $1.00. 

It is a tender and beautiful romance of the idyllic. A charming picture 
of life in a Welsh seaside village. It is something of a prose-poem, true, 
tender and graceful. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of 
price by the publishers, A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52-58 
Duane St., New York. 


Good Fiction Worth Reading, 


A series of romances containing several of the old favorites in the field 
Of historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and diplomacy 
that excel in thrilling and absorbing interest. 


GUY FAWKES. A Romance of the Gunpowder Treason. By Wm. Harri. 
son Ainsworth. Cloth, i2tno. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. 
Price, $1.00. 

The “Gunpowder Plot" was a modest attempt to blow up Parliament, 
the King and his Counsellors. James of Scotland, then King of England, 
was weak-minded and extravagant. He hit upon the efficient scheme of 
extorting money from the people by imposing taxes on the Catholics. Ii» 
their natural resentment to this extortion, a handful of bold spirits con- 
cluded to overthrow the government. Finally the plotters were arrested, 
and the King put to torture Guy Fawkes and the other prisoners with 
royal vigor. A very intense love story runs through the entire romance, 

THE SPIRIT OF THE BORDER. A Romance of the Early Settlers in the 
Ohio Valley. By Zane Grey. Cloth. i2tno. with four illustrations by J. Watsoa 
Davis. Price, $1.00. 

A book rather out of the ordinary is this “Spirit of the Border." The 
main thread of the story has to do with the work of the Moravian mis- 
sionaries in the Ohio Valley. Incidentally the reader is given details of the 
frontier life of those hardy pioneers who broke the wilderness for the plant- 
ing of this great nation. Chief among these, as a matter of course, is 
Lewis Wetzel, one of the most peculiar, and at the same time the most 
admirable of all the brave men who spent their lives battling with the 
savage foe, that others might dwell in comparative security. 

Details of the establishment and destruction of the Moravian “Village 
Cf Peace” are given at some length, and with minute description. The 
efforts to Christianize the Indians are described as they never have been 
fcefore, and the author has depicted the characters of the leaders of the 
several Indian tribes with great care, which of itself will be of interest td 
the student. 

By no means least among the charms of the story are the vivfd word- 
pictures of the thrilling adventures, and the intense paintings of the beau- 
ties of nature, as seen in the almost unbroken forests. 

It is the spirit of the frontier which is described, and one can by it; 
perhaps, the better understand why men, and women, too, willingly bravei 
every privation and danger that the westward progress of the star of em- 
pire might be the more certain and rapid. A love story, simple and tender;, 
runs through the book. 

RICHELIEU. A tale of France in the reign of King Louis XIIL By G. P. 
R. James. Cloth, i2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, Ji.oow 

In 1829 Mr. James published his first romance, "Richelieu," and wa® 
recognized at once as one of the masters of the craft. 

In this book he laid the story during those later days of the great car- 
dinal’ s life, when his power was beginning to wane, but while it was 
yet sufficiently strong to permit now and then of volcanic outbursts which 
overwhelmed foes and carried friends to the topmost wave of prosperity. 
One of the most striking portions of the story is that of Cinq Mar’s conspir- 
acy ; th© method of conducting criminal cases, and the political trickery- 
resorted to by royal favorites, affording a better Insight into the state- 
craft of that day than can be had even by an exhaustive study of history. 
It is a powerful romance of love and diplomacy, and i» point of thrilling 
and absorbing interest has never been excelled. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the' 
publishers, A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23d Street, New York 


Good Fiction Worth Reading 

A series of romances containing several of the old favorites in the field 
©f historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and diplomacy 
that excel in thrilling and absorbing interest. 


WINDSOR CASTLE. A Historical Romance of the Reignof Henry VIII., 
Catharine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth, 
x2mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $ 1 . 00 . 

“Windsor Castle” is the story of Henry VIII., Catharine, and Anne 
Boleyn. ‘Bluff King Hal,” although a well-loved monarch, was none too 
good a one in many ways. Of all his selfishness and unwarrantable acts, 
none was more discreditable than his divorce from Catharine, and his mar- 
riage to the beautiful Anne Boleyn. The King’s love was as brief as it 
was vehement. Jane Seymour, waiting maid on the Queen, attracted him, 
and Anne Boleyn was forced to the block to make room for her successor. 
This romance is one of extreme interest to all readers. 

HORSESHOE ROBINSON. A tale of the Tory Ascendency in South Caro- 
lina in 1780. By John P. Kennedy. Cloth, i2mo. with four illustrations by J- 
Watson Davis. Price, $ 1 . 00 . 

Among the old favorites in the field of what is known as historical fic- 
tion, there are none which appeal to a larger number of Americans thaa 
Korseshoe Robinson, and this because it is the only story wifich depicts 
wsrith fidelity to the facts the heroic efforts of the colonists in South Caro- 
lina to defend their homes against the brutal oppression of the Britlslm 
under such leaders as Cornwallis and Tarleton. 

The reader is charmed with the story of love which forms the thread 
©f the tale, and then impressed with the wealth of detail concerning those 
times. The picture of the manifold sufferings of the people, is never over- 
drawn, but painted faithfully and honestly by one who spared neither 
time nor labor in his efforts to present in this charming love story all that 
price in blood and tears which the Carolinians paid as their share in the 
winning of the republic. 

Take it all in all, “Horseshoe Robinson” is a work which should be 
found on every book-shelf, not only because it is a most entertaining 
story, but because of the wealth of valuable information concerning tha 
colonists which it, contains. That it has been brought out once more, well 
Illustrated, is something which will give pleasure to thousands who have 
long desired an opportunity to read the story again, and to the many who 
have tried vainly in these latter days to procure a copy that they might 
read it for the first time. 

THE PEARL OP ORR’S ISLAND. A story of the Coast of Maine. By 
Harriet Beecher Stowe. Cloth, i2mo. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 

Written prior to 1862 , the “Pearl of Orr’s Island” is ever new; a book 
filled with delicate fancies, such as seemingly array themselves anew eael* 
time one reads them. One sees the “sea like an unbroken mirror all 
around the pine-girt, lonely shores of Orr’s Island,” and straightway 
comes “the heavy, hollow moan of the surf on the beach, like the wild 
angry howl of some savage animal.” 

Who can read of the beginning of that sweet life, named Mara, which 
came into this world under the very shadow of the Death angel’s wings, 
without having an intense desire to know how the premature bud blos- 
somed? Again and again one lingers over the descriptions of the char- 
acter of that baby boy Moses, who came through the tempest, amid the 
angry billows, pillowed on his dead mother’s breast. 

There is no more fai’thful portrayal of New England life than that 
Which Mrs. Stowe gives in “The Pearl of Orr’s Island.” 


TPor sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the pub* 
lishers, A. L. BURT COMPANY, 53-58 Duane St., New York. 


GOOD FICTION WORTH READING 


A series of romances containing several of the old favor- 
ites in the field of historical fiction, replete with powerful 
romances of love and diplomacy that excel in thrilling and 
absorbing interest. 


ROB OF THE BOWL. A Story of the Early Days of 
Maryland. By John P. Kennedy. Cloth, 12mo. Four page 

illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. 

This story is an authentic exposition of the manners and customs dur* 
ing Lord Baltimore’s rule. The greater portion of the action takes place 
in St. Mary’s — the original capital of the State. 

The quaint character of Rob, the loss of whose legs was supplied by a 
wooden bowl strapped to his thighs, his misfortunes and mother wit, far 
outshine those fair to look upon. Pirates and smugglers did Rob consort 

with for gain, and it was to him that Blanche Werden owed her life and 

her happiness, as the author has told us in such an enchanting manner. 

As a series of pictures of early colonial life in Maryland, “Rob of the 
Bowl” has no equal. The story is full of splendid action, with a charming 
love story, and a plot that never loosenls the grip of its interest to its last 
page. 

TICONDEROGA. A Story of Early Frontier Life in the 
Mohawk Valley. By G. P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. Four 
page illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. 

The setting of the story is decidedly more picturesque than any ever 
evolved by Cooper. The story is located on the frontier of New York 
State. The principal characters in the story include an English gentleman, 
his beautiful daughter, Lord Howe, and certain Indian sachems belonging 
to the Five Nations, and the story ends with the Battle of Ticonderoga. 

The character of Captain Brooks, who voluntarily decides to sacrifice 
his own life in order to save the son of the Englishman, is not among the 
least of the attractions of this story, which holds the attention of the reader 
even to the last page. 

Interwoven with the plot is the Indian “blood” law, which demands a 
life for a life, whether it be that of the murderer or one of his race. A 
more charming story of mingled love and adventure has never been written 
than “Ticonderoga.” 

MARY DERWENT. A tale of the Wyoming Valley in 
1778. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. Coth, 12mo. Four illustra- 
tions by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. 

The scene of this fascinating story of early frontier life is laid in the 
Valley of Wyoming. Aside from Mary Derwent, who is of course the 
heroine, the story deals with Queen Esther’s son, Giengwatah, the Butlers 
of notorious memory, and the adventures of the Colonists with the Indians. 

Though much is made of the Massacre of Wyoming, a great portion 
of the tale describes the love making between Mary Derwent’s sister, Walter 
Butler, and one of the defenders of Forty Fort. 

This historical novel stands out bright and pleasing, because of the 
mystery and notoriety of several of the actors, the tender love scenes, 
descriptions of the different localities, and the struggles of the settlers. 
It holds the attention of the reader even to the last page. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of 
price by the publishers, A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52-58 
Duane St., New York. 













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